


Weathered Sapling I

by TwilightsDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightsDawn/pseuds/TwilightsDawn
Summary: Love is either a tree or a poison. It is either something that someone nurtures and grows and protects, so it will stand in the strongest of storms. Or, it is something that is never granted or returned and it begins to devour a person's body and soul till nothing's left but a husk.Voldemort has been reduced to a husk. He had no ability to love until he is trapped as the remainder of his soul tethers itself to a little boy that he was supposed to have killed. A boy that will grow up and just might be the only thing that can save him if he doesn’t get them both killed first.Harry grows up without much, just the shadowy thing that seems to want to protect him from his abusive Aunt and Uncle. It’s vicious, brutal, and claims to hate him. But Harry thinks that it loves him just a little bit. Even if it’s touch seems poisonous.Translation Links inside:
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 210
Kudos: 975
Collections: HP Soul Bonds





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is planned to have dark elements. There will not be any underage, but it will handle darker themes such as child abuse, death, suicidal thoughts, among other things. The tone will be mostly light-hearted but it does tackle the former. There will be a Voldie / Harry later on when people are older. So please if you don't like the ship don't read just to bash on it in the comments. 
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> Translation to Portuguese by the lovely : LouistRiddlePotter 
> 
> https://my.w.tt/toliWo20Icb

_The fall of a Dark Lord_

There was darkness and light streaming in from the hole that was in the roof. The floor had bits of broken glass and splintered wooden beams. The blue carpet was nearly black with roof shingles and the mark of curse fire that had burned quickly and out itself. The air was thick with the smell of burning and magic. The potentness was inescapably dark. It was hard to focus with it all thrown about. In the darkness and in the horror there was the body of a woman. Her red hair was pooled around her like a crimson stain. Her face was to the wood but the one eye that was visible was vacant and opaque. The only sound was that of the cold wind and a baby crying out into the frigid night air.

A back shadow curled in the corner by the crib. The shape of the figure was distorted and flimsy. It fell nearly apart with each gust of wind that came through the hole in the ceiling and the broken window. Red eyes flowed slightly as they surveyed the room. 

It was not supposed to go this way. The shadow looked at the robe that was laying on the floor on what remained of the carpet in the room. It was almost hissing with steam that was radiating off of it. It was just crumpled and singed. That was all that was left of him. He would have laughed if it was possible. Nothing came out of him but scattered thoughts and distorted hisses. 

He was alive he supposed by only just so. One could argue if he really was alive. He fell apart trying to move closer to his robe, closer to where his wand laid. He couldn’t muster the strength to pick it up. His misty hands just passed through it. 

It had been painful this end. More painful than anything that had ever happened to him. And considering what he had been through that was saying a lot. But such was the path to power it was paved in blood and pain. Perhaps it could have at one time been better, could have been altered as not to be as dark and crocked. But if that was to have happened it must have happened long ago.

Voldemort could not afford to have regrets. Well, perhaps his one regret currently was that he had not finished the job. The prophesied child was still alive. Still laying in a crib and he hated that child. More than anything before him. His whole being was still humming with it. He had been ripped out of his body as it was eviscerated. If he had known this was to happen he would have made the woman suffer, he would have dropped the baby from the window… There were plenty of ways to kill something that small and weak, but magic had always been a go to, it was easy to just wave a wand and will it. There was no need even for words. 

This all could have and should have been better planned. He had gotten content with his power. He had become overconfident in his abilities and he had foolishly and impulsively acted.

He was not supposed to be bested by a Mudblood Gryffindor and her self sacrificing tendencies. He looked at her corpse, the thing had yet to even cool. 

No, he should have never been defeated. 

But there was nothing to be done.

It had happened and Lord Voldemort would have to work his way out of it. He would be lying to say he has survived worse, but he had survived so there was hope to fix it all. Perhaps hope was the wrong word. Determination was perhaps more accurate.

He would need to get some sort of better physical form or alert one of his followers. Certainly, if he fed off a strong developed magical core he would be able to at least have the ability to impact things. He tried to leave, make way out into the night, as he could now hear the police sirens and had a feeling that it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore the meddling old coot would send someone soon. 

He felt a horrible pain in his chest the further he made it away from the crying child. It was as if his very essence had hit a snag. Burning pain as if he was going back through the motion of his death all over again. He could not get away from it without falling to near pieces. He held onto his chest and the small light that was in it as he composed himself. The light also pulsed on the jagged scar that had formed in the shape of lighting across the boy's forehead.

What was this?

The little monster kept crying and it was giving him a headache. If that was even possible the sickening sound resounding in his skull. He moved closer to the crib and the pain lessened. 

He sneered at the child. “Stop crying.” He hissed at it. 

Large green eyes that reminded him of the killing curse fixed on him and the child did stop reaching at him with grubby hands. He would have grimaced if he had the facial muscles in order to do so. But still, the child could see him, it was a little concerning given everything that was going on. 

If the child could see him, who else would be able to? 

His life could become more of a hell if there were others that could see him. He didn’t know how or why but he was anchored to this child and until he found a way to sever their connection he would prefer if there were not others around that could see him and wish him harm.

Still, the child was scooting closer to him on its bottom, legs and arms wriggling like ugly little caterpillars in the green pajama bottoms. It pointed at him. 

“You are horrible, disgusting, and I would kill you if I could.” He told it.

The child reached at him, laughing as he attempted to will it silent. He didn’t really have lungs he was sure but he did suck in a lot of air into the shadowy form and released it causing the smoke to dissipate around him. 

It couldn’t reach him if he stood away from the crib. Even if it waved its hands through the bars. Babies he decided were pathetic. And he was grateful that all it could do was let off noises instead of trying to talk to him. It would be harder to hide if it could talk. 

A large man stepped into the room. Voldemort knew this half breed as the one that he had framed and yet Dumbledore still favored. He was hardly able to make it into the room. His large head would have bonked the ceiling had there been one left. He was crying horrible loud sobs that were making his whole face red, to the point that he looked like a squashed tomato, with the juices leaking out of every orifice. 

Voldemort felt him walk through him. It didn't hurt but scattered him. And the child started to cry again. So now there were two crying fools. At least it didn’t seem that he was able to be seen by anyone but the child. It was a small positive in the sea of negatives.

“Lit’le Harry.” The large man croaked out. “I’m sorry Harry” 

He picked the child up…Harry… gently for such a whale of a man. It would have been easy for the baby to fit in one of his hands. 

He cried louder. 

“I know Harry it's awful. Bu’ don’t yer worry I be taken care of yeh.” The half-giant was moving quickly down the stairs after picking up a few of the things by the crib that were still intact. 

To avoid immense pain. Voldemort had no choice but to hover within a few feet. The motorbike experience just involved being dragged along and hardly holding together. In fact, he was sure that at one point all there was of him was a thin trace of light in his chest. When they landed they were rushed into a hut, not even a house. Voldemort would know this place anywhere. He could feel the ancient magic in the air.

Hogwarts. 

It had been so long since he could see the castle and he took a spot in the far corner of the hut that was darkened. The only one that seemed to see him besides the child, that would ever so often look over at him, was the dog. The dog had not moved since he had come into the home. Those large brown eyes were fixed on him, though he didn’t growl or make moves to get closer. Voldemort could sense it’s tenseness in his presence. 

Most things feared him, he took no pleasure out of the mutt fearing him, but he could not say that it was not nice to know that even in this form he was intimidating. The Potter boy was sleeping in a makeshift crate cradle. 

He loomed over the child, watching them sleep as if nothing had happened. He was blissfully aware of what was going on. Yes, that was what it was like to be young. Everything could be fixed. They didn’t know how foolish it was to trust those that were bigger than them. Voldemort had learned lessons well when he was young. Things wouldn’t be fixed, there was no coming back from the killing curse being deflected off one’s head. There wouldn’t be a single person that did not know this child’s name but even the fame of that wouldn’t help. His parents were still dead. Voldemort had succeeded in that if nothing else. Lily and James Potter were gone. 

There was still one thing that puzzled him. How they were still connected. There had been a light that had shown from the boy’s skull when he had attempted to stray too far, and it was painful. He pressed what was left of his hands against the scar. 

The green eyes flew open. And Voldemort could feel a warmth trickle down his very being. It was not possible. He drew away and those green eyes looked around for him. 

No there was no way…

He had not sought to create one. There was no way that his soul had latched onto this child. The rest of the fragmented pieces couldn’t be inside him. But that would explain the pain. The very last of his essence was being safely protected, nestled and woven into the very magical core and soul of the infant. This complicated things to a completely different level that he had no way of grasping the implications of. 

One thing became clear. The boy couldn’t die, not as long as he was a vessel for what was left of him. Voldemort paced what little distance that he was able to. The dog let out a soft whine as he got too close to it. Hagrid the oaf didn’t seem to notice. 

He just fed the child a bottle and turned in himself for the rest of the evening. 

Unfortunately for Voldemort, there didn’t seem like a good way to stop being conscious and he had to stand in the corner by the crib until the light poured into the hut. 

Hagrid had left and was talking to someone that was outside of the hut. He stopped his pacing and moved so that he could see what was going on. The sight of the man that stood out in front of the house-made him hiss explicits to himself. 

Dumbledore. 

He was holding a basket and Voldemort narrowed his glowing eyes that better not be what he was thinking it was. If they abandoned his vessel to that disgusting orphanage. He would kill the old man. He would kill him so painfully that it would make all of the other people he tortured to death look like they had died peacefully in their sleep; it was a promise. 

They entered the house and Voldemort even if it was ridiculous made a point to stare the old fool down. He seemed none the wiser that he was there. He cleaned up Harry with a few cleaning charms and then placed him under a thicker blanket into the basket. 

“I will make sure that we are ready at the proper location.” Dumbledore said softly, “The Muggle neighborhood will need wards, should Voldemort’s followers seek vengeance.” 

That implied that his forces were smart enough to even consider it. He had no idea if there were any smart enough to go looking for his wand and retrieve it for him. Though it did bring the question of where they would move them. 

“Bu’ placing em there. Should e not be with a wizard family?” Hagrid bless that stupid bleeding heart. He was right. 

Even if Voldemort hated the child, he wouldn’t wish his childhood on magical children. Even the poor excuse for magical people Mudbloods. Muggles were disgusting and knew nothing about raising a child with magic. They had punished him at every turn, thought him abnormal, even tried to have him have an exorcism. Thinking about it sent both that familiar terrible feeling though him that he would deny if anyone questioned him, but also immense anger. 

“He will be with the only family he has left,” Dumbledore explained. 

As if that made it any better. And yet hours later Voldemort was dragged along for another motorcycle ride to a small street with ugly little houses. It was so Muggle. There were lines in the yard from lawnmowers and horrid plastic flamingos in the yards. It must have been cold because even Hagird shivered as he got off of the bike and walked up to the front of a particularly well-maintained yard that had plastic flowers in a little pot. The house was tackily decorated with a Halloween wreath that had sequin all over it. The amount of glitter in the small pumpkins was nauseating. 

These were the people that they planned to leave a magical child?

It was almost insulting that the person that defeated him, be it momentary and by a lapse in judgment, would be stuck in such a neighborhood. He missed whatever was being said by the now 3 people in the front yard; they were crowded around the child that was somehow still asleep through their whispering at each other. He moved closer to hear them. 

“He will have that scar forever.” Dumbledore traced it with his finger and Voldemort felt a slight chill by the gesture. For the briefest of seconds he caught a look from the headmaster, it was a glance more so in his direction that stopped the second that he let go of the boy’s forehead. 

“Could you not do something about it.” the woman that he believed to be named McGonagall said. 

“Even if I could I wouldn't, having scars can be handy, I have one myself above my left knee.” Dumbledore stopped whatever story he was going to give. “We had best get this over with.” 

He took the child carefully from Hagrid and headed towards the front door

“Could I say goodbye to em sir?” The giant blurted. He kissed the little head and then started to cry loudly. The woman shushed him.

A silencing charm would have been better. 

“You will wake the Muggles.” She repeated. 

Was that not the plan to at least wake the caregivers?

“Sorry.” The man with the mind of a child sobbed just as loudly as before. “Can’t stand it, poor Harry off to live with muggles.”

Voldemort scowled because yes poor child to be left with Muggles, essentially trapping him with Muggles as well and not a scrap of magic besides that would later come from the boy. 

“All very sad, get a grip on yourself or we will be found.” The woman cut him off patting his large tree branch-like arm. 

Voldemort shouldn’t have liked her, but she reminded him of Lucius’s wife. Stren and could end even the stupidest of death eater chatter. It was hard to come by competent people. Why could she not be the one that he had spent the last day with?

He was nearly pulled along and he moved quickly so as not to feel the pain of it. 

Dumbledore left Harry on the doorstep, in the basket, like some old terrible book would have done. He put the letter on the bundle. And then just waved off everyone. He then walked to the end of the street, put on the street lamps and was gone. 

Gone. 

Right, why did he think that this would go differently?

They left the child there, in the cold with nothing but the flimsy blankets. He shook with rage. The least they could do was get enough away, cast a disillusion charm, and then make the door knocker go up and down to at least alert one of the people inside. 

But no. 

That would show some sort of thinking and some sort of care. Which Voldemort was nearly a thousand percent positive that Dumbledore was incapable of. He had sent him back to the orphanage no matter how he begged when he was a kid. He had lived through the blitz clutching his wand, hoping that he wouldn’t need to cast anything and wouldn’t get himself kicked out of the only place that he felt any connection with. _Yes_ expecting Dumbledore to be anything but neglectful was like expecting the tide not to come in. 

He cursed himself to near shadow pieces and then sat himself on the step, next to the sleeping child. There was the temptation to touch the scar, as it did making him solid enough to feel things, and because it felt nice. 

And right now, he was at his wit's end. 

Yes. Voldemort would kill all 3 of them; it was a chillingly calm thought that helped him to make it the next few hours into the night. They deserved it for leaving the child there. Shivering Harry slept. He slept blissfully unaware what terrible things had been done to him in less than 48 hours, and he was blissfully unaware of the hate radiating off the person next to him.

Voldemort would be startled out of the odd calm that he had built up by a gut-wrenching shrill scream from a hideous muggle woman. There was the sound of breaking glass as she dropped the milk bottles thankfully enough away from the child.

He was starting to think that only he had common sense among humanity. And he again was starting to feel nothing but irritation. 

She ran back into her house slamming the door, only to open it a minute later, and then repeat the process a couple more times. Her face was that of a rotten gourd when she finally scowled down at the baby on her doorstep her neck making many chins against her pearl necklace. She looked around and finally took the child inside as if she was ashamed that the neighbors might see how crazy she was.

Perhaps he was also the only sane person too because she took the letter and left the child at the door by the coat wrack. Harry now was awake and proceeded to pull at the nearest coat, making a slight mess as he did so. 

Children… They didn’t know that what mischief they would get into would affect them. If the woman didn’t hate him before she would certainly going to if he made a mess. He glanced towards the kitchen. There was the sound of someone talking quietly. It wasn’t that far away. He strayed as far as the theater would allow. 

“It’s the freak’s son. Yes, I am sure Vernon. It came with this letter.” 

There was a soft crash and the coat hook had fallen over successfully. 

“Stop.” Voldemort entered the child’s view and the baby did. He looked at him still holding onto a wool pink coat that had fuzzy flowers attached to it. He was tempted to let the child suck on it and spit all over it just so it would be ruined. But Voldemort didn’t think that Muggles were the type to be capable of care and he didn’t want his vessel to put itself into trouble before there was a significant magical core that he himself could manipulate to make a defense. 

And so the great lord Voldemort sighed allowing the stupid creature to grab at him. It didn’t do much besides disrupt the shadows anyway. It would not be till a little later that Voldemort found himself under the stairs in a cramped dark closet. He refused to call it a room. There was nothing in there any longer, just a clip-on light and the basket that had Harry in it. 

It did nothing to shove at the door or even to try to pass through it. He was officially trapped with the baby in the dim lighting given off by the bulb that flickered. The place was filthy, there was a thick coat of dust on the few shelves. He folded what was left of his arms and seethed. 

It was like the days of the orphanage all over again, except even with cramped conditions they were only put into the creepy cellar if they were bad. As a child, Voldemort had often found himself down there, where the walls dripped water if it stormed and the place was so cold that it sometimes had ice forming on the stones. 

And Harry cried. He cried and cried and cried. And there was nothing that he could do to shut him up. There was nothing that the screams brought anyway. It eventually stopped but that was because Voldemort was pretty sure that Harry could not cry any longer. He didn’t have a sense of smell but he knew the signs of a baby that needed to be changed, that was hungry. The snot had hardened around his nose, his breathing was gasped and wheezed.

These people were sick. If they didn’t want the child, just kill it. It would save a lot of trouble, not that he knew what would happen should the child die a brutal death. 

“I should have killed you when you were older.” He muttered to the baby. It would have made all this a lot simpler, an older kid would have had a better magical core to use to influence the environment. He touched the scar, comforting he supposed the child just for his own sanity’s sake as the sniffles started all over again. The warm feeling of his withered remaining soul felt the larger piece that was in Harry. It had migrated from the scar to Harry’s own chest. He had a bad feeling that meant that part of him had become part of Harry and there would be no way to pull it back out. So even when he was stronger there was the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to fully get away from the other.

Still, the simple touch seemed to cause some sort of joy in Harry; his little teary eyes looked up at him and there were the hints of a smile. 

Yes… perhaps this could be an opportunity. Mold this child to think the way that he did, see the world the way he did. Dumbledore would regret ever placing him here. He wouldn’t get the savior that he was dreaming of to destroy him should he bounce back from this. He would instead face someone that was nearly as powerful as the Dark Lord himself.

He smiled down at the child, he didn’t know if it was possible but Harry seemed to know that, he was reaching up and grabbing at his shadowy fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

_The Monster Under the Stairs_

There was a darkened place, where the sounds of the house echoed. If one were to sit there they could hear every creak of the stairs feel every hum of the furnace, and breath in nothing but dust. This space was only about 4 meters long and 2 deep. Depending on how one sat they would come face to face with a stair board if they were to turn their head or if they were tall and stood up. The smell to the place was that damp musty smell of pipes, and old wiring. The only light was a small bulb that could clip onto the wall. There was nothing but a basket on the floor, some old blankets and scraps of cloth for a pillow. If one were to open the door they might have thought that a pet was kept under there with the dirty plate that was placed on the floor and with the faint smell of urine. 

But no this was not the place for a dog or cat. This was the room to a small toddler, not a play space, but a room and possibly a home to him. The only safe place of a confused and very quiet child that played with when no one was looking with a very small stuffed bear that was missing an eye and a leg. Occasionally the bear would lose stuffing and the child would take care to push the stuff back up into its dirty body. 

It was also home to a shadow that hid in the corners of space among the shelves that were bare but for another set of rag clothes that were too big for one Harry Potter. He was always watchful even if there were times that he didn’t know if the child saw him anymore. He seemed to fade into the background of their forced living arrangement. As the child had grown so had the Shadow’s ability to try and interact with the living world and inanimate objects. 

The Dark Lord now had the ability if he put extreme concentration and will into it, brush the hair of the boy away from a very large lightning bolt scar. He was also able to poke him if needed. There was not much else that could be done. And while it was something very little Voldemort used what he could to warn of the Muggle woman that would bring her shrill voice through the vent when it was time for diaper changes or to plop some sort of leftover garbage onto the child’s plate.

Yes, little Harry did not eat at the table, he did not leave the house, he was to be silent, seen and not heard. The child tried to talk of course. He tried to help with the few things that he could do, such as picking up toys for the other boy that was allowed to play with such things. Or to bring things to his Uncle that would drink heavy amounts of alcohol on the weekends and watch whatever was on the Tele. It would be the time that the woman would be out of the home with their son visiting family, that perhaps was seen as the respectable sort in her feeble mind. But none of his little attempts were appreciated. They did not like him and they would never like him. 

Voldemort could not help but feel that the sooner that Harry learned there was no such thing as love to be found in this pink-walled and striped sofa hell hole like that the better things would be. If love was such a powerful magic, Dumbledore had dropped the Quaffle because there was no way that Harry was going to learn anything about it here. 

Love was such a useless emotion. Even if it was what Harry seemed desperate for. He would have to settle for acknowledgment from Voldemort with his careful pokes and scar touches. He could only be so comforting.

But his failed little attempts did let the boy roam the home, and when Harry was out Voldemort would watch. He would watch with his very calculating gaze. There were many little secrets in the Dursley house. Harry was just one of them. And one day using these little gained secrets could prove to be useful. 

The one known as Vernon was the type of man that not only over indulged in the world of food and the alcohol type of drink but as he did so he would invite other women into the house to do the cleaning. Ones that he no short of harassed as they tried to do whatever it was that he had asked of them and get out with as little handling as possible. 

The woman Petunia was the kind to smoke out the kitchen window when no one was looking, no one but Harry’s very small and impressionable self. She would degrade him with foul words, and Voldemort did not know if he ever heard the woman even use Harry’s name. Come to think of it. He did not even know if Harry was the full name of the child or not, it could have been short for something for all that he knew. 

Which he admittingly did not know much. The Dursleys may have never struck the toddler that they kept secret from the world but they did not need to do that to be considered the worst sort of abusers. 

Harry was too thin from never getting enough to eat even though everyone else was well fed in the house. Some members of the family more so than an adult hippo, which was exactly the shape that Dudley was trying to accomplish. His father was even more so and there was no reason for Harry to receive nothing but scraps. The clothes that he wore were always nearly falling off of him. They were always dirty and Voldemort could not keep track of the number of days between washes. He was more successful in terms of counting on his fingers the number of times that Petunia thought it best to give Harry a bath. 

Yes, and when she washed him, Voldemort could sense that she considered holding him under the water. He could practically see those evil gears in her head-turning. He decided that if he ever got the chance that would be how she would go. He would hold her under the water, only letting her up for a few seconds before he would plunge her back in. Maybe he would starve the other members of the family while he was at it. 

Yes, as things came to pass. Voldemort came to hate the Dursleys almost as much as he hated Dumbledore; there were only two things that the old man had over them. One was that he was the sole reason that Voldemort found himself and Harry at their mercy and the second was that Dumbledore had doomed yet another child through his negligence to child abuse.

Yes because anything that happened to Harry that was super painful, like the time that Dudley the pygmy hippo had stomped on his hand, Voldemort felt it. And so this put him also at their mercy for now. And there was one thing that he hated more than anything it was the feeling of being helpless. 

He had not been this way since he had discovered magic. He didn't know of course what it was, but he knew that he could hurt those that hurt him. And it had caused him to be feared. Being feared and left alone was better than kids thinking that they could beat him down to the ground and take whatever rations that he had been given or the broken bits of toys that he had collected much like Harry did from other children. 

Harry would babble the few words that he knew softly to him. Voldemort did not think that Harry could understand what he was, he just sometimes would catch sight of his movements and would try to talk to him. Putting out a voice that could be heard wore Voldemort out, as did his warning touches. He had pushed once and then had not known that it had been 3 days that he had disappeared until he had somehow found himself in the kitchen with Harry that was cleaning up spilled cheerios. 

So he more or just loomed near Harry then trying to use too much energy. He preferred knowing what was happening in their situation. Besides, he might have learned to stand Harry but that did not mean that he wanted to have long thought out conversations with the 3-year-old boy. Most of the conversations boiled down to on Harry’s end asking if he was a monster and if he could eat Dudley instead. Sometimes it was are you a ghost? And how did you die? The boy only remembered him there half of the time, and as such Voldemort never really gave much in response other than once offering up that he was both, he was a monster of sorts and he was as close to a ghost that he could get. 

Even if Voldemort did not think of himself as a monster he knew that was how many saw him. He was fine with it. He had a stove for goals that few could only imagine, immortality was just one of them. He had killed nearly a hundred people, was responsible for probably a lot more than that. In every sense of the word, he was something that was to be feared and respected. His enemies hated him, people that he rained over hated him, the Death Eaters were always scheming against him. He had built his empire on the knowledge that no one would like him, no one would trust him, and he had to be one step ahead of everyone. 

He knew what had to be done, they might not like it. But he would solve the British Ministries lingering issues. He would fix and strengthen the hold on magic so that Muggles would not find them for a longer period of time, that they would be protected from the growing influence, their culture intact. They would be ready for when the inevitable happened years down the road when Muggles did find them out because their technological advances made it so that there was nowhere to hide or when the 3rd war happened and Nuclear warfare would attempt to take out all the things that were living. It was one button away. One horrible Muggle idea away and there would be no hope for any of them. Not without precaution. The people that followed him were fools; they did not see what evil that Muggles were, they did not see the threat. They were so absorbed with their Blood bigotry and their petty goals of ensuring that only those that they thought worthy would have power that they did not see the long term and those on the other side were like Dumbledore at worst or blind to everything because they were too busy fighting against the Pureblood families and trying to be so all-inclusive that they would stumble over their heritage, culture, and widdle down their magical freedoms. 

He had planned to win, crush those that were weak that wanted to be so inclusive and use the 28’s power to get the policies that he needed to be passed. He then would eliminate those that would be problematic to his overall goal of protecting what remained of the Magical world from Muggles. Perhaps it made him a monster. He was willing to kill hundreds in order to do this. He was willing to kill those that had supported him if it insured that. 

He had been on the break of bringing the change that was needed. The Ministry had been falling. He again felt that surge of anger. All he had done would be for nothing, as he was trapped like this, all the deaths, all the steps taken, decades worth of work waisted. 

He growled and Harry jumped hearing him. As Voldemort practiced taking in deep breaths and self-control that he had not been able to achieve at this level in a very long time. He hunched down closer to the boy, showing both of his hands up in a move that was very unlike him. But showed that he meant no harm to the child. Harry relaxed, holding the stuffed bear a little less tightly. He looked at him with those eyes that were moist with unshed tears. 

“I won’t hurt you.” He told the child told him what perhaps was a promise, as Voldemort had no reason to hurt him. Not now and perhaps not ever again should everything work out. It would not do if the child was scared of him for the wrong reasons. 

The little boy moved closer to him and reached for him, his little fingers passing through the smoke that made him up scattering his arms and part of his face with the movement. There was nothing to feel, nothing to comfort if Voldemort didn’t brush the scar. Which seemed like he was being invited to. He brushed the hair out of the boy's face. He did this softly, gently to prove that was how he could be. He could be kind if he needed to be. 

He felt along the jagged edges, tracing them slowly. The memorized him, brought him clarity, warmth, and some sort of feeling that was not really distinguishable. 

Yes, he liked this scar, he liked the mark that showed that Harry belonged with him. He brushed another finger across it and gripped lighty the boy’s head so that he could make the hair move up and down. The child sighed deeply. Voldemort had seen mothers mess up their children's hair. He did not know the point of it, and would never want another to have done the same to him. But he figured that it was something that he could attempt. 

The action though did have the desired effect. It made the boy smile. He had a gap in his teeth and it had been a while since Voldemort had seen anything that resembled a smile from the child. Which he would have to do something about. Children should have some sort of joy in their lives. He had more slight bursts of happiness at Wools. Harry's eyes closed and he shifted on the blankets that he was in so that he could try to sleep. Voldemort kept the motion up for a little longer, till he felt like he was going to pass out and moved away watching as the boy breathed in and out. 

He had never put a person to bed before. He didn't think that he himself had ever had any care placed in trying to be put to sleep. If there was any care given to him it had been long forgotten about. He listened to the deep breaths that eventually blended in with the hum of pipes and the furnace. It was comforting and perhaps that should have disturbed him. Dark Lords should not be calmed by watching a child sleep. They shouldn't care what happened to one insignificant child, as long as they were not dead.

But Harry was his vessel, he was his Horcrux, and he in a way was part of him. So that had to be why he wanted to protect him, take care of him, because by doing so he was taking care of himself. He refused to think that he was getting soft, and he forbid himself to think that he quite possibly was going mad. 

Harry grew and so did the amount of work and torment that the family put him through. Dudley followed his parents lead in the verbal degradation of Harry. The pudgy child took glee in hurting Harry by shoving him off his already shaky legs and punching the air out of him. The starvation and food servings got worse and Voldemort thus practiced his ability to influence the world around him. Because his goal became to be able to get out of the cupboard. If he could unlock it, then he would be able to get things that the child needed or lure him out when it was safe to do so to get food or water. If his vessel was weak, and could not grow and develop he wouldn’t make a good chess piece. And that was the only reason that he strained himself. He started with moving the few stones that Harry had picked up from the garden and drew faces on when he got the hang of that, he tried turning doorknobs and he practiced putting force into his movements. By the time that Harry was 4 at the age where accidental magic could really start to happen Voldemort was strong enough to make a difference. He took advantage of the ability to stray a little further from Harry and his first act was to enact a swift version of justice and shove Darling Dudley down the stairs. He made sure that Harry was working at pulling weeds in the front yard as not to be blamed for his actions. 

He wished that Harry could have seen the act of it. It was rather beautiful the way that the elephant bounced. He tumbled and hit all 25 glorious steps making it all the way down to the bottom and slamming into the wall headfirst. Voldemort did not think that he ever saw something so wonderful. He savored the crying and the screaming. The way that the blood ran down the wall and the way that the bones in the arm snapped. He never thought that he could love something but he would say that he loved the way that Petunia was gapping like a fish. He loved the way that she was struck stupid and let her own flesh and blood suffer a whole 5 more agonizing minutes before she was able to scurry her way to call an ambulance. 

Yes that was when Harry had been able to see his handy work. He looked at him and Voldemort smiled at him. He let his eyes show it. 

It was the first of a few accidents and inconveniences that happened to those that lived at the Dursleys and Voldemort took pleasure in making each of them suffer. If they were going to put his Harry though hell then he was going to make them all have their own versions of it. He knocked all of Patuina’s cigarettes into the garbage and hid the only lighter in the house. The woman had gone nuts trying to keep herself composed with the others in the house unable to satisfy her craving. 

He opened the windows while they were sleeping so that snow would fill Dudley's bedroom. He had ordered snakes into Vernon's slippers when he had taken them off outside. All the occurrences were normal enough to pass for possible and could be explained away. Petunia lost her lighter and had miss counted the remaining smokes, Vernon had left something that a snake would what to hid in, Dudley had fallen down the stairs and he had been foolish to leave his window open. The window that was smashed was because of the neighborhood children loping one of Dudley’s baseballs through it. The scratches in the car were by pranksters. The mice that had destroyed the curtains and half the food in the house were simply that, crazy mice. 

And Voldemort waited for the day that he could do more, that he could do more than slightly influence things. He waited so that he could kill them and get away with it or make worse things happen to them if that wouldn’t be possible.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!

_The child in the cupboard & the writing on the wall _

The small space was dark, though one could grow accustomed to the dark and the dim. There were many shades of black. For instance, there was the type that had a gray to it. Some blacks had brown mixed into them, and some had a shine of blue that came from it when looked at by the correct angle. And the cupboard under the stairs had many, many shades of black. One could get used to seeing and moving in a cramped space. It was amazing which ways someone could contort themselves to fit into spaces, ones that perhaps they had no right finding themselves in. 

There was a simplicity to the dark and small space, there was a familiar hum to the floorboards and it was impossible not to know every nook and every cranny. The boy that lived there knew every nail where it hung down, every loose board. He knew every creak to the house and the position of those in the house by the mere sound of it. He knew each member of his family's footsteps by their weight and pitch. He was never cold for he knew which shelf to stuff his head and body into to be closer to the water pipes that would heat to the near point of burning and he would press up against them to gain that for himself. He didn’t mind the spiders that crawled over him, for they did not bite him if he didn’t frighten them. He would watch them weave their silvery webs and the way that they would catch the other things that crept along the corners of the dirty space. 

In the loose floorboard, there were hidden bits of toys that he could play with even when there was no light. He had his trusty teddy bear, a few army men, broken chess pieces and a box full of pretty rocks, snail shells, and broken glass that he had filed down not to be anything but shiny. These were his precious secrets that were all his own. No one knew that he had them and no one ever would. 

He had a few secrets of his own in a house that hid much. He was never to ask questions and as such he never did. He had learned his lesson quickly, ask silly questions, find yourself on the end of a belt or being shoved back under the stairs. He never asked about his parents or pointed out the strange things that tended to happen. For the biggest secret in the Dursleys' home was not that they were really nasty horrible people behind their fake smiles and nicely decorated home. No the biggest secret that he had was there was a shadow that lived in the corner of his cupboard and it haunted the entire house. 

The shadow was really a horrifying thing and he did not know much about it. But he knew that it was there, there were shades to the dark after all and the thing lived in pockets of the dark. Its body withered and spread thin, nearly blending into the corners that it hid. If one was to really try to look at it, they might not see it. Think that the way that parts of it drifted out like smoke was a trick of the lack of light and an overactive mind. 

But the child knew. He knew that it was there. It hissed to itself every once and a while and would pull itself out of the hiding places. He would see eyes that gave off a slight light, red like a small flame. Like the end of one of his Aunt's cigarettes or the dying of an ember that had popped from the fireplace. The eyes always gave it away, they glinted and moved. They were the most alive thing about it. 

It was the type of monster that most children would have feared lived under their beds or in their closets. Because he had neither, it had no place to really hide. It followed him wherever he went, hiding in the darkened places in rooms. It was ever watchful and he never brought it up to the Dursleys. He never asked about it. Because they would punish him for suggesting that something weird could be going on.

And he had a feeling that even though he had seen the monster do things that were anything but nice, that it was not going to hurt him. It did small things like chew through the television cables, hide his Aunt’s lighter, moving it to more and more obscure places where it would stay for a couple of days and then would be returned should his Anunt buy another one. It laughed to itself if others were to hurt themselves on one of its clever traps. He was sure that it pushed Dudley down the stairs a few years ago as it had looked pleased with itself. 

Yes, he really should have been scared of it. But how could he be when it didn’t do much more than just watch him. It never played those sorts of games with him. It always did its games that could go too far when he was not in the room. It didn’t like it when he was hit or knocked over as it would hiss. 

He considered it strangely enough not only his secret but his only ally or friend in the house of evil.

It had come a few weeks before he was to start school, he had not been able to attend preschool, kindergarten either. He was heading into minority first grade and Petunia had cut his hair. She had cut it too short and visually hacked it all on purpose. Leaving nothing but the fringe around his scar as she said it was a hideous reminder of the car crash that had ruined most of her happiness. His hair had grown back within the hour. He didn’t know how it happened but he had been grateful until it was he was shoved back into the place under the stairs. And so he had been locked in the cupboard for what must have been a day now. His bladder hurt and he would soon have to use the water bottle that he had smuggled in from the trash so he wouldn’t wet the mound of blankets that served as his bed.

It was when the last of the lights went out that he saw the shadow in all its glory looked at him. He must have looked pathetic. Debating if he could hold it longer as there were cramps forming. It though pushed hard on the door and for some reason, it opened. It never could do that before. It looked at him expectantly, stood in the light that came from the floor light plugin in case there was anyone that needed to see on their way up the stairs. It was almost like it wanted him to follow it. It tilted its head and vanished. 

He slunk out to the bathroom, stealing from the bathroom sink large gulps of water after he washed his hands. He stepped lightly softly back to his prison and sanctuary. Nothing ever happened in that small space it was only when he was forced out of it. He shut the door and looked for the Shadow but he didn’t see it. He did not see it until the following night. When his stomach was eating itself. 

An apple appeared seemingly out of nowhere. With talon-like claws clutching it and releasing it near him. He reached out and started to scarf the fruit down as It looked at him again, but it did not seem to be as solid as it was the last time that he had seen it. It opened its mouth or at least appeared to. It moved closer to him. Reaching out spindle-like fingers, brushing at the scar that made the mark on his forehead. He wondered then and there if it was not someone how connected to the mark that was there. He felt the warmth from it, and then remembered that he had felt this feeling a few times when he was half asleep when he was really upset when he was younger. 

It cared for him. He supposed in its own way. 

He blinked at it reaching out and his fingers passed through the wrist of the thing. So it could touch him but he couldn’t touch it. It kept up the movement, ruffling his hair and tilting its head as if it was happy doing this simple thing. This caring movement. 

It had to be the only kind hands that he had any memory of. Some nights he dreamed of course of a woman that had red hair that would say Harry to him. But he never knew if it was real or not. 

“Do you have a name?” He asked it. Swallowing loudly what was left of the treat. All that was left was a very thin core. It looked at him with some sort of emotion that almost looked like sadness or maybe that was just his imagination. 

“Tttt...ah….Mmmm” It rasped and it’s body faded a little but it simply pulled away from him. As if it couldn’t keep up the movement. 

“Tom.” He asked trying to picture such a terrifying creature as this thing to be named something as simple as Tom. But then it was possible that he was someone that had died in the house or maybe there had been someone else in the crash because it almost felt like Tom had been following him for as long as he could remember. 

Tom was a ghost of some sort that only he could see. Perhaps that's why his Uncle and Aunt hated his parents; maybe they had the sight as well. It would explain their hate for anything they considered to be abnormal. 

“Do you know my name?” He asked because he didn’t really even know it. He was called Boy or Freak and he knew that was no name for himself. He had a feeling it was Harry but he was never certain. 

“HHhhhh….Array” Tom was starting to vanish again. 

“I thought that was my name, but I wasn’t sure.” Harry nodded to himself. It felt sort of right to know his name like a piece of the puzzle had clicked into place. 

There was a hiss that was horrid and Harry narrowed his eyes and if he concentrated he could make out the words. Fucking Muggles… Murder them… Dumbledore…. Coot. 

“I can’t hear you if you talk too fast.” He told him. 

Tom’s eyes widened and he moved a little back from him but there wasn’t much room for such a large shadow as him. 

“You can hear and understand what I am saying?” Tom asked those wavey glowing eyes were so large that no real eye could do such a thing. 

“Well yes you're talking in English aren't you?” Harry was horribly confused as the Shadow laughed itself to pieces and didn’t come back. 

Of all the things in his world that made no sense that was certainly one of the things that had to be on top of it all. 

Harry got used to Tom being a bit closer to him, since their conversation. He talked more in quick hisses now than he did English, explaining that it was his language that not many could speak it. Which sounded like high praise and pride that Harry could understand it. He didn't explain more than that much to Harry’s disappointment.

He didn’t laugh as Harry asked if that was the language of ghosts. He was sort of patient with him. When other things in the house were enough to make him curse and threaten. Tom had a habit of wanting to strangle the Dursleys, and often described in detail softly how he would accomplish it. Harry didn’t know if the other was aware that he said those things out loud. He couldn’t always tell if Tom meant the things he was saying or he was just angry and saying it because he could and possibly had someone now that could hear him. Harry was finding that the shadow was quite the angry being. 

Perhaps a Demon named Tom was not all that farfetched. 

Tom in the off chances that he had enough energy to do so would talk in length with him. He decided one night to reveal to Harry that the reason that he could understand him, could see him, his hair grew back quickly, his injuries healed faster than most was because he was Magical and people that were not Magical feared those that had magic. 

So Harry came to infer that the reason that Tom was attracted to him was because he fed off magic. Which really made sense because when Harry was too tired or weak from something Tom was not around and if the shadow did excessive amounts of activity he disappeared as he did not have enough energy to do anything else besides what limited magic he had absorbed would allow him to. But even if Tom was using him to feed, it did not seem that it caused lasting damage. And it was really worth it to have someone else that was looking out for him. Someone that cared for him. Because Tom did care what happened to him. He was the only one.

And that word, Magic. It became a comfort to him. The Dursely’s could ban its use in front of them. They could hate it’s very existence and him because of it but it didn’t matter. He was Magical. He would be able to do great things as he aged and learned how to use it. When he was eleven there would be those that came for him to teach him about the Magical world. He would be free from the Dursleys as he went to school regardless if they wanted to pay for it or not. And Tom promised to go with just as he went everywhere with Harry. So he would never be alone because he was Magic. 

The day was the normal kind of summer day that meant cooking, cleaning, and weeding. Tom was hidden in the shadow of the large tree in the backyard. It had started off that amount of dull that Harry had become accustomed to as he waited very patiently till his birthday for the blessed gift that he would be a year closer to the day that he became eleven and would leave this place. But now he was only nine and eleven felt like it was an eternity away. 

“Boy get into the house!” Petunia's wail brought him walking slowly towards the back kitchen doors. He didn’t dare to track mud into the house because he made a mess close to Dudley’s birthday. She would love a reason to lock him away in the cupboard that was getting smaller and smaller. It would be a problem for Tom to be forced to open it night after night to get him out. He didn’t like seeing Tom in pain. He didn’t like him knocking himself out trying to help. 

He stood there in the kitchen holding tightly onto his shirt trying to make sure that none of the mud hit the clean tile that he had spent a good part of yesterday afternoon cleaning. 

“What is this?” She held up a package of crackers that he had stolen from the kitchen and stored in the case that he was hungry. 

He couldn’t think of a response to that, that wouldn’t sound like he was being sarcastic. “Crackers.” He finally said quietly as she was going to keep glaring at him. 

“You're an ungrateful thief.” She started to scream at him and he toned her off looking at the floor and trying to look small and non-threatening. Tom was drifting closer to him and there was a hand that was close to his own but he could not grab it. He could not feel it. Even if a real attempt was made. But he must have looked more at the hand then he should have because his aunt hit him hard with the wooden spoon on the head and it awoke him from his thoughts. He must not have looked like he was listening to her. 

It was raised again and again.

**WHACK!**

“I will teach you….” 

**WHACK!**

“I'll teach you….” 

**WHACK!**

“To steal from me.” 

The spoon made contact after contact, hard, and harsh. And he covered his head as the spoon slapped hard enough to bruise hard his arms and sides. He thought that it might break with the weight to it. And he didn’t realize that he was crying till his already poor vision became near too blurred to see. 

He actually started to ask her to stop. 

Beg her really as it hurt and he curled into a ball on the floor as not to be hit anymore. The spoon broke upon the next hit and she looked to be considering moving onto the larger metal one that was in the same cup. 

There was the sound of something breaking and she stopped to look at the glass screen doors shattering. Harry stared in near amazement. She looked at him with slight horror and then picked up the pan that was on the stove. The water in it was boiling and Harry scooted away from her as possible but it was still thrown at him. 

Not all of it hit him but some of it splashed and he never been in so much pain in his life. The water hit his exposed arms and legs. He shook and tried to get it off of him. Rubbing at the places that were wet with his shirt. The same pan that had been thrown at him was chucked back at his aunt. The brick of knives on the counter started to shake and his Aunt backed away again and started to scream as there was a knife pulled from the block, thin shadows holding it up. 

“Don’t…. Kill her….” He managed. He hated her but he didn’t want to be blamed for it. He didn’t want to go to prison. He begged Tom to think it though silently and the shadow understood. 

The knife plunged itself into the wall and was dragged down so that it tore the striped wallpaper. Dudley who had heard his mother screaming stared horror-struck as Harry tried to get up.

He started to read out the letters. 

L-E-A-V-E 

That was the first word. It was carved deep into the wall like each stroke was to emphasize how much there was a want to be stabbing them instead. 

Petunia was still screaming her voice was getting hoarse with terror.

And finally sensing that something was incredibly wrong Dudley stuttered out the next word. 

M-Y 

The next letters were not as hard the knife was wavering and Harry knew that Tom was getting tired. 

H-A-R-R-Y 

The last word was not nearly as neat as it was wavering.

A-L------O---N---E 

The knife clattered to the ground and Tom was gone. 

He was gone when Harry was being taken to the hospital for the burns that were on his arms, and on his legs. 

He wasn’t there when Harry was essentially told that the descent part of the family didn’t want to see him so he had to stay away from them. That they were in trouble because of him. That he could eat whatever he wanted, but to do it away from them. To just leave them alone. Dudley’s birthday passed and Harry wasn’t asked to do one thing. 

And so there was a burning loneliness for the rest of the week as he had no contact with anyone, and without doing chores there was nothing to do, and time crawled. 

Weeks past in a similar manner. Harry stole newspapers and magazines from the trash and struggled through reading them just to have something to do. And Harry wondered if Tom would ever be back. 

Finally, there was an emergence of eyes in the corner of his space. The red eyes looked at him and then a thin blackness formed around a small pinprick of white light. Fingers curled and were less claw-like then they previously were and the shadows seemed to have more shape to them. Tom moved closer to him. Taking in fading bruises from Vernon that thought that rules did not apply to him if his crazy paranoid wife was not home and he let out a low hiss.

But even if Harry was happy to see his friend was there. It was replaced with a little bit of anger as well. 

“Tom, don’t do that again!” Harry practically yelled at him. Only lowering his voice as he heard footsteps creak above him. 

The shadow retracted away from him not understanding why he was so mad. It was clear in what remained of Tom’s eyes. They then narrowed at him as if he was now angry at him. But Harry wouldn’t let him lecture him. 

“You don’t get to do things like that if you're going to go away for nearly a month.” Harry felt tears starting to form in his eyes. “I thought you were not coming back.” 

And whatever horrible look was gone. All the malice was out of his posture. He reached out and traced Harry’s scar. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt very calm even if there were a few tears that did roll down his cheeks. Tom could only ever touch him there and it always without fail made him feel better. He could feel the thin cold fingers playing with his hair with the care that he had desperately missed. It made him forgive him for leaving as he knew that Tom was really sorry.

“I apologize.” The words were soft near a whisper. 

“I forgave you the second that you came back.” He smiled slightly. And to clear the air for both their sakes he switched topics. “I lost a tooth.” He showed Tom that one of the bottom ones was gone. 

“How did you lose it?” Tom asked in a way that was untelling on how he was feeling. 

“I fell on the stairs.” Harry shrugged. 

“A fairy might come,” Tom responded with a soft hiss. “They are usually very interested in magicians' teeth.”


	4. Chapter 4

_The Infuriatingly Addressed Letter_

There is a natural order of things. Humans can try to alter the cycles to suit their needs. They can install lights in order to provide them with artificial sun. They can plant things that have no business being in the UK and they die prematurely like the decorative birch trees in the neighbor's yard. Nature knows this is only an attempt; there is no real way to really control it or curb it. Natural occurrences will take priority. Storms will still destroy crops, they will still flood where there needs to be water, and the little bird that is too small will be kicked out of the nest by its stronger sibling. The fledgling that falls will die once it hits the ground to be consumed by ants or live to be eaten by some opportunist predator. And as such there was an order in the Dursleys house even if they fought against it.

There are 2 fearful individuals that steer clear of his Harry because Voldemort is nothing but a predator and he protects his territory well. It might just be a small compartment under the stairs, but it is his. And so are the paths to the kitchen, bathroom, and the outside world. But in every herd, there are those that think they can lead and defend against something that is much bigger than them. Whether it be because they think that they are stronger or because they think that they foolishly can protect against what the monster wishes to prey on. And in this house, the goat that was showing his horns was one Vernon Dursley. He would cave, of that Voldemort was sure. He just had to find the right angle to use against him. Where the bite will be deepest and avoid those flashy horns. Harry really should have been the one to do it. Voldemort knew that there was a lot of magic residing in the child, that wished to be set free and used. However, Harry seemed like he was reluctant to use it to cause any lasting harm.

The glass that had shattered had not been Voldemort. It had been Harry, he had smashed all 4 thick glass panels and sent the glass everywhere. It had been the trigger to send him into action because yes smashing the glass was a good show of power, but it didn’t do anything painful or really terrifying to solidify that position on top. One should not hurt Harry Potter because he could make glass break was not a very threatening thing to remember. Breaking things was all good and well. But if it had been him he would have picked up the glass shards with his magic and hurled them forward. Impaling if not Petunia with a few shards or her son, at least the space around them. 

But Harry did not perhaps have the control for that and so his Shadow friend ‘Tom’ had done what needed to be done. 

The knife being plunged into the wall was such a display of power. It showed that a knife very well could have been inside of them. He had carved those letters with a depth that could not be buffered out. They had to redo the whole kitchen for the effort. Take off all the wallpaper, repatch the wall as he had hit the boards through the plasterboard and then repaint it all. Each second that they were in that kitchen it was impossible to forget the words that had been carved there and embedded in the wall. Even if it had taken him from Harry for a while, one could not deny that it had had the desired effects, while Harry was still asked to do chores outside there was never a hand directed his way from Petunia if he didn’t do them. She was scared to be in the same room with him for a long period of time unless she was with Vernon which sooner or later Voldemort would destroy that security blanket. And Dudley was easy to intimidate. All that Voldemort had to do was lift an object around him and he would nearly pass out. Harry easily learned that one.

Voldemort only borrowed a small portion of Harry’s magic. Never enough to cause lasting problems, nothing to hurt the child. Because he would not do that… More so than he had already done. But he borrowed enough so that he could be there at every step of the way. He was determined to make sure that Harry could do things without him and this saved Voldemort from wasting energy. He made sure that Harry practiced lower-grade spells. The first thing he taught him was how to open the cupboard should they think to lock him in it ever again and he needed to leave. And as soon as he learned that. They worked on influencing heavier and heavier objects and summoning things from other rooms. 

Harry had an affinity for magic if one was to give him praise and build his confidence in his ability to do something right for a change. He could do quite well with a few kind words and the smile was pure and innocent. Yes, the Durselys had destroyed Harry's belief to be anything but a failure, a waste of space, and less than nothing. It was up to Voldemort to piece him back together because even if Harry knew that his remaining family were horrible people they did have an effect on him. They damaged him more than the physical and it would take a while before Harry would be able to view himself as something that was better than any of them combined. 

Yes, self-esteem was something that one had to build up until it came naturally. Voldemort had been of the philosophy of fake that confidence until one had it. One could only beat someone so low with insults if they showed no reaction to it. He had accepted early on that he was different, and they were jealous of that difference. Harry would too with time. Voldemort would help him to understand the things that he had learned the hard way. Because even with Petunia's narrowed and frightened eyes. Voldemort knew that she was jealous. She was jealous of her sister and what she had and now she was just as envious of what Harry had. She would try to crush that ‘freakiness’. She would say that she hated the very word Magic, but Voldemort was not fooled. He knew those hateful eyes. He had known them well. He could do things that the other children he had grown up around could not. He could talk to snakes, and animals with a slight nudge would do anything that he had asked of them. It had not been his fault that the rabbit had liked him better than its owner. Children particularly Muggle ones were petty, cruel, and thought that if they degraded the talent that it would go away or that he would suppress it. 

At one time he had tried that, suppressing it. He had done it in order to have a chance to escape the orphanage. He would let a person dress him ridiculously, call him cute, it had not matted. All that mattered was that he would be out of there. But it had never worked. Magic was not something that could be suppressed. It flared and it showed with emotions. If he got too excited or upset it would manifest and he would be dumped back at square one. After a while, the “freakiness’ had been used to warn others away. 

```Don't bother with Tom he is a freak.```

It had taken Voldemort a good part of his young life to learn how to curb the powers that he seemed to have, only using them when he needed to as retribution or otherwise. 

The adults were even worse then the children he found himself around. They thought because he was slightly independent that they did not have to care for him. They thought even if he was easy to take care of that he was odd and that oddness had transferred no matter how he tried to contain it to possible the child or the devil or having a mental illness. The care staff had avoided him, even giving him his own room in an attempt to keep him away from others. 

They had hated him… Of course, they would, what with all the accusations, the floating objects and cracked windows. 

The Dursleys did not deserve such a child as Harry. Being here convinced him that Muggles did not deserve magical children, for all they did was abuse them in one way or another. Voldemort wanted nothing more than to kill them. He wished he could go back to choke Mrs. Cole and her idea that possibly a mental institution would be helpful. It had kept him in line. It was a horrible threat considering that institutions believed that shocking a person would fix them. The threats that the Durselys put together for Harry were nothing in comparison to that one. Voldemort countered them all the same though with many malicious actions to put a stop to even the thought of sending Harry to an orphanage or away to unknown territories. He would take the cupboard and a very controllable environment to uncertainty. 

School was not much better for Harry then it had been for him. The school children avoided Harry but that was because Voldemort or ‘Tom’ was an okay imaginary friend for someone that was in first grade, but not later on in life. The fact that Harry was sometimes hissing to him in class or in public settings branded him as a weirdo. One that no one really messed with. Not when Dudley the biggest bully there was stopped and would turn tail at any sight of him. Harry was branded the type of freak that obviously would hurt them back. 

The staff was just as concerned. They were more worried about him having a mental illness or something else was going on in the home that was causing him to self-isolate. But like the predictable subhumans that they were, the Muggles had written it off, never investigated, and conveniently would drop talking about it should they check home with Petunia that had the whole neighborhood thinking his Harry was a menace. 

Voldemort had to convince Harry not to try and talk to him as much. Not that he minded being the one that Harry dedicated all of his attention to. Because he should be the most important person… well, ghost… soul shard...shadow… he really wasn’t sure what he was at this point in Harry's life. He liked the attention. It was just if Harry got too used and comfortable with the habit they may be in trouble later at Hogwarts. Harry couldn’t be speaking parseltongue when there were others that could overhear him, and if that person was Dumbledore, then there really could be problems. Voldemort didn’t want that old man meddling with his Harry more than he was already. He had a feeling that the headmaster wasn’t done trying to play god over people yet. And had some sort of scheme hatched up by putting Harry in such unfavorable conditions. 

Still, it was not an easy thing to sit through elementary school courses. Most of the time Voldemort settled for messing with some of the electrical equipment, seeing how much magical interference it could take until it destroys itself. Sometimes he would move other people's things just to watch them go crazy trying to remember where they put it. These things were little amusements that Harry did not really appreciate. He said that Tom was distracting and he wanted to learn. 

Harry liked learning things, probably more than anything else, which perhaps set him up for Ravenclaw. He had a thirst for knowledge and he took his studies seriously. Even if the other kids ignored him Harry was fine with that because he got to be out of the house during the school hours and even later as he was part of clubs and activities that included an art and baking club. They were things that he could do alone at a separate table if need be. Kids were not really allowed to do much in the baking club, not even touch the oven, which was too bad because watching stupid children burn themselves would have brought him the slightest bit of entertainment. Harry did get to eat sweets once a week from it so Voldemort supposed that was why he kept going. That and it was a way for Petunia to avoid seeing them for a few more precious hours. 

Still, Voldemort struggled with the mundaneness of everything…

It was maddening. 

Even if he tried to give himself slight amusements, this was not something that a Dark Lord should be doing. He was frustrated. He could get nothing done. And he was truly alone when Harry had to sleep. As he had no way of turning off the thousands of thoughts and thousands of hours he spent simply sitting and doing nothing. There were more productive things that he could be doing with his powers, be it the ones that he was borrowing. Finding himself a way to have a physical form, being able to really become himself again, was on top of his list. He would follow that by trying to reorganize his Death Eaters and set up himself again for another attempt at fixing the Magical world. Still, at the moment he would settle for being able to at least touch things around him. He missed sensations. He could not feel much in this form. The only thing that had any brightness to it, any warmth, was what he could feel when he touched Harry’s scar and he could only do that for a few minutes. 

He wanted to be fixing the Wizarding World, securing his power, building things back to the greatness that they were supposed to be. But no, he was trapped learning how to do basic math, reading chapter books on imaginary magic schools, and forced to look at the ugly Muggle children as they did things like flick boogers when no one was looking. He was starting to think of ways in which to get away with strangling the child that sat next to Harry without him hating him. 

Voldemort suddenly had realized something very, very troubling at that moment. If Harry hated him and didn’t want to help him eventually to get his body back. Then perhaps there really was no hope not to be stuck like this forever. 

No, he would fix it. 

There were always ways to fix things and there were other fragments of himself out there, other Horcruxes that perhaps he would be able to form back from. Then again... they were all made at different times. Would he even remember what had lead to his downfall, the prophecy, and other things? Would the sensations that he felt through Harry go away? He had not been able to really care about another person or living thing since he had split his soul the first time. Harry brought back that feeling with a vengeance, and even gave him slight clarity that he had not felt in a long time. 

He might have gotten off the rails a little with killing people that got in his way but he had done it for a reason. 

Surely there was a way to convince Harry of that. 

He started to fall apart thinking about it. Harry luckily was busy with his homework and did not seem to notice the strange crisis he was having with himself. There was that horrible feeling of being torn apart again. The feeling as though he was being pulled a thousand different directions towards different Horcruxes. He had felt as if he was burning and he gripped at his head. Picturing the woman begging him. 

_Not my Harry... Not my Harry... Take me instead._

He didn’t regret it. 

He couldn't. 

There was nothing to be done even if he could allow himself to regret it.

It was in the past along with all the other horrors that he had faced and done. 

But Harry…

His Harry...

He felt that little sliver of a soul that was in him throb. And he knew that Harry was affecting him, just as much as he was influencing Harry. It was scary because the one thing that Harry desired was love. The one thing that he feared more than anything was being hated. Voldemort knew this because he felt it when he touched Harry's scar the need to be accepted, the want for comfort. The very thing that Voldemort had decided was foolish to want... was becoming something that he desired to feel. To be loved was such a ridiculous notion, being feared and hated was better. You couldn’t be disappointed then. 

But the idea of Harry hating him was a very hard one. 

The boy had no one. He just had Voldemort and if he was to pull on those threads Harry could break, at one time it would have delighted him to see someone else fall apart, but this child he didn't want him to fall apart. If not for the very selfish reason that he would never look at him with those soft eyes, or say his name with any emotion besides contempt. He was used to hate, but not the funny fuzzy feeling that was brought about by the joy of Harry sharing something with him or wanting to talk with him. 

He could maybe help ease Harry into his goals, that was the plan after all. Ease him into the idea of changing the Wizarding World and the fact that he was Voldemort, his parents' killer.

Right, this would go over really well…

Harry, I killed your parents, then attempted to turn the wand on you. The only reason that I am with you is because I tore my soul into itty bitty pieces in an attempt to be immortal. It was nothing completely personal that led to my need to kill you. it was just a threat to my power. 

Yes, that would definitely lead to understanding. 

He had always been good at twisting his words, he could find a way to break this down to Harry. He could make him at the very least understand why he did it. it didn't mean that he wouldn't hate him though. 

He composed himself the best that he could. Certainly, this part of everything could wait. There were still a few months before Harry’s birthday and the time he would be sent off into the wizarding world. There was time. And for all everyone else knew there was no more Voldemort. They would possibly bring him up, but Harry might not be able to distinguish that Tom and Voldemort were one and the same. Dumbledore was surely not going to believe he was gone and could cause issues with parallels if he were to know about an imaginary friend or ghost named Tom but everyone else…? Certainly they would not know that his real name had been something as plain as Tom. But then again he had no real idea what was even going on with the world that really mattered because there were no Witches and Wizards on Pivot Drive except the most annoying Squib that he had ever seen. She was obsessed with cats and smelt like she washed her clothes using their urine. Any time that the Dursleys passed Harry off to them was another time that Voldemort came close to going on a genocidal spree. 

Just thinking about it made him want to burn something. Harry looked up from his workbook with a face that said what are you mad about now?

Voldemort ignored him and moved into the shadowy corner of the room. All this hostility could be attributed to the fact that he had no good way to relax. He was trapped in a vicious circle no matter where he turned. Where the only thing that mattered, the only thing that he cared for was Harry. But even Harry could be annoying not often but sometimes. There was no way to get away from him either, except sending himself away by spending magical energy. It was getting a little harder as Harry was getting very close to his 11th birthday and there was magic in spades. Voldemort started to more often make sure to use up whatever magic that he had so that he would disappear for a few hours, not enough to be gone when Harry woke but enough to just blink out for a while. He didn’t even know how safe doing something like that was, but it was better than the slight itch of madness in the back of his head. The one that was homicidal and wouldn’t be well-liked by Harry. If he was playing the long-run game, he couldn’t afford to look like a real monster to Harry. 

It was sometime in the summer, as he had lost track of days that a letter came for Harry. Voldemort had not gotten a good look at it, but he had noticed the seal and quickly instructed Harry to hide it. And so Harry did quickly and then handed the rest of the boring Muggle things to his awaiting family. 

When all were in bed. Harry took out the envelope and read it out loud to him. “To Mr. H. Potter cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging Surrey.” Harry turned over the envelope in his hands prepared to break the seal. “Is it normal that they know that I live under the stairs? Do they watch the house to know that.”

Something started to float near him as Voldemort did his best to breathe in the metaphorical sense as he was not physically able to do that. They knew! Of course, they knew he muttered and snarled to himself Dumbledore was just watching it all happen. He is letting it happen. What was a little child abuse to a man that had sent Voldemort back during the Second World War to the orphanage and let him go through the blitz? He wanted to strangle him. He just needed to borrow a little of Harry’s magic and then squeeze. The old man wouldn't suspect it as he had not been able to see him all those years ago but for perhaps a split second when he had touched Harry's scar. 

“Tom?” Harry asked, tilting his head. He looked like he was impatient to keep reading and ‘Tom’ was disturbing him. 

“It does not bother you that they know what you are going through and do nothing?” Voldemort had to ask. Because how could Harry not understand what was being done to him counted as abuse and adults were supposed to care about things like this. Voldemort had pointed out how wrong it was hundreds of times that his teachers did nothing, and it looked like they would do that again. 

Harry paused and looked at the letter, his small fingers traced over the wax seal. “It does a little, but I have been waiting for this for a few years now, someone to come and take me away from them.” 

He instinctively shifted at that.

“It’s not your fault Tom.” Harry rushed his face flushing a bit. 

This child could read him so well… and always rushed to comfort him of even relatively small things. Maybe their connection was really getting stronger or they were just getting closer. But still, the fact remained that it was partially his fault. Harry never would have been here if he had not taken it upon himself to put a stop to the prophecy. If he had never played a role in killing his parents, this never would have happened whatever this was. He never would have felt anything about or from Harry at all. And he would be reluctant to admit that he liked the way Harry looked at him in this moment. It made him know the other cared for him. And even if he could exploit that care and innocence there was something holding him back that was not there before.

He tried to recover. “Yes, well, it still is disturbing they would address the letter like that and not come to check up on you, magical guardians are supposed to do that if they suspect something is wrong.” 

His didn’t because it was the same neglectful bastard that wasn’t checking up on Harry or was and didn’t see anything wrong about what was happening. 

“Well maybe when I get there, I can tell them about how the cupboard isn’t just a place I hide out in for fun. They won’t believe Petunia right, she isn’t like us?” 

It made him happy to hear Harry say like us as it gave proof that there was a good chance to sway the child and keep him on his since. The satisfaction lasted only for a moment. 

“You should be careful who you tell.” He hissed softly. "Some may not be sympathetic if the addressing on this letter is anything to go by." 

“Yes, right it has to be someone that we both trust.” Harry agreed easily. 

“We?” He felt his eyes widen and he would have raised both eyebrows if he had the capability. 

“I trust you and your judgment on most things,” Harry said earnestly. “Not always because I don’t think that killing my Aunt and Uncle will solve all our problems. It would probably only bring more.” 

“Perhaps but it would solve a few nameable ones.” Voldemort folded his misty arms. “And I stand by what I said months ago. I could make it look like an accident.”

“Right.” Harry shook his head. Opening the letter carefully with his nail. Voldemort read over his shoulder. 

_________________________________

Dear Harry Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. The term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely, 

Minerva McGonagall 

Deputy Headmistress

________________________________

So it was not only Dumbledore that knew, McGonagall did too. She had signed off on this and as such cemented herself as number 5 on his list of people that he would be killing the second that he had a body back. 

Harry had already moved onto the next page that included the things that he needed so there was not much time to dwell. 

_________________________________________  
UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.  
________________________________________________

Not much had changed since he went to school. And he didn’t know what that said about the educational system. 

“Where can we get these things?” Harry asked him, playing with the edge of the parchment bending it slightly. 

“London will have what we need.” Voldemort leaned in to look at the book list.

Things really had gotten expensive, hadn't they? He supposed that Hogwarts and Diagon Alley must have had a monopoly on the things that students would need, being that Hogwarts was the only magical school in Britain and Diagon Alley was the most convenient place to shop for school supplies. 

“How are we going to pay for it all? The fairies only left a few coins, and I can’t lose any more teeth.” Harry looked over at the small jar that he had collected an odd number of sickles and knuts as the fairies that came for Harry’s teeth had just given whatever they had on them after Voldemort more or less shook them down for all the currency they were carrying. 

“We have enough to get to the bank. I am sure that your parents left you something. If not, there is a fund for Hogwarts students that can not afford it.” Voldemort was not that worried about that aspect. Getting there and back was not that pressing either. It was what came when they made it to the Wizarding World and Hogwarts that could be most troubling. There would be a lot of people around and it could be negative influences that wouldn't help his case of trying to make sure Harry understood the right point of view on more delicate topics. 

Harry sighed contentedly. “So how will we get there?”

“There is a night bus for Wizards and Witches who are stranded, shouldn’t be too hard to call. You have been practicing summoning charms.” Voldemort tapped his face in thought. “But perhaps we should talk more about the Wizarding World before you rush off into it.” 

“I suppose that would save me from talking to myself in public while we’re there and looking like a crazy person.” Harry agreed easily. 

Voldemort wondered exactly where to start so he started with currency because that was something that could buy him time to work towards more pressing things in the Magical World like blood stasis, common traditions, sports, and of course the Hogwarts Houses. He would make sure that Harry had a crash course of everything to save him from embarrassing himself and preparing him for the inevitable truth that they might just see him as their savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and theories on this work see you soon. 
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again :D

_A Dark Lord Named Voldemort and A Giant Named Hagrid_

_There was a woman that was standing near him. She was smiling at him poking at his cheeks gently with her forefingers. His face was squished by the movement and she laughed softly as he wrapped his fingers around her fingers. Her red hair spread around her face with the laugh that she produced. She leaned closer to give him a very soft kiss._

_I love you Harry_

_A man stood beside her. He had shorter black hair and glasses. He hugged her from behind. His smile was just as bright as he watched her antics. There was a sound that was coming from the side of the house. It was a banging, almost like someone was slamming their fist against the door. The man then looked alarmed. The woman ran up the stairs as there was one final bang. She was starting to cry softly. He could feel her tears. Her arms tightened around him. ___

___There was the sound of someone yelling and then laughter. And even someone as young as Harry knew that there was something wrong._ _ _

__Harry woke with a start. He clutched at his frantically beating heart and it took him a moment to remember where he was and to reach for his glasses that were on the shelf near his head. It was dark and very hard to see. It took a couple of seconds for him to see that Tom was in his corner and slowly moving over to him. Almost as if he was unsure what to do. For someone that seemed as old as he was, Tom was overly cautious when it came to interacting with him sometimes._ _

__“Harry?” The soft hiss was concerned even if it was attempting to sound annoyed they both knew that Tom couldn’t sleep so he was not mad about being woken. He was physically incapable of it, though he did stare off in the distance a lot and maybe that was as close as he could get. It didn’t matter, though if Tom was concerned he would deny it if Harry pointed it out. You're a brat was as good as I love you from the other._ _

__“Just a bad dream.” Harry sighed. “It started out nice.” He rubbed at his eyes._ _

__Tom tilted his head. “What made it bad?”_ _

__He acted as if dreams couldn’t truly be terrible. But the thing was Harry couldn’t really remember all of it. But there was enough for it to bother him._ _

__“There was a woman talking to me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember. “She seemed scared of something after a few minutes.”_ _

__Tom even if he really didn’t have a face through the shadows that made him up Harry could tell that he was uncomfortable. It was just one of those things. He sometimes felt a prickling sensation by his scar when Tom felt something rather strongly. They were connected even if he fully did not understand how it had happened, nor did he really know much about Tom when it really came down to it._ _

__“It was only a dream.” His mouth though did seem to move at his words, the shadows stretched with his words. And had he not known Tom well he would possibly be scared by the way his jaw did that. He was looming closer, he sometimes got almost too close but Harry was used to his hovering._ _

__“I know that.” He rolled his eyes moving back to lean against the curved cement that made up the wall under the stairs. His head almost hit the stairs above him, a few more inches and it would not be possible anymore. “Doesn’t make it any less unsettling, she seemed familiar.”_ _

__“A dream Harry,” Tom repeated if not a bit colder than before._ _

__“Yes, I heard you the first time.” Harry sighed. “I just have dreamed about her before, this was the first time that she was scared though. Sometimes I just dream of a green light and that is enough to make the dream rather awful.”_ _

__He waited for Tom to make fun of him for being unsettled by a green light of all things but Tom was silent._ _

__Oddly silent._ _

__“You know something.” Harry peered at him. “I know you do Tom, you are doing that thing you do when you’re stressed.”_ _

__The hands that were more and more looking like a person’s than a demon or monster’s released themselves from the firm grips that they had on his shadowy sides._ _

__“Harry…” Tom was trying to get out of it, suddenly sounding very tired._ _

__Harry kept his eyes fixed on the shadow because that usually caused him to cave, and if he didn’t completely then he might say something that was at least remotely important with the way that he would try to deflect it._ _

__“I once told you that your parents did not die in a car crash.” Tom shifted so that he seemed to be sitting on the edge of the small mattress. His form rippled as if there was a breeze and he was cold. “They died to a horribly painful curse, a green light is evidence of that curse.”_ _

__“How do you know it’s painful?” Harry narrowed his eyes slightly._ _

__“I died to a killing curse,” Tom said with near no emotion._ _

__Tom avoided talking about his death if he could help it. It seemed that before tonight that he had always been a bit angry about it, mostly defensive but definitely bitter. But it was his personality to be near bitter about everything._ _

__“So this green light is like a murder curse, who would cast such a thing?” Harry knew that Tom talked about killing people in a way that was very casual but he had always attributed that to the fact that Tom had been dead for a long time and everything bothered him. He never really did anything that could be considered really deadly except for the time that he wanted to stab his Aunt but that was for a good reason._ _

__“There are many that would.” Tom fixed him with a look. “But one doesn’t have to use that to kill someone.”_ _

__“No, you have mentioned a few ways to get back at nearly anyone that has ever annoyed you.” Harry smiled at him and Tom shifted again._ _

__“I have not threatened you.” Tom folded his arms. Harry blinked at him. “Recently.” Tom corrected._ _

__“It's alright, I know that you wouldn’t act on it.” Harry shook his head. “You're all bark and no bite.”_ _

__“I could bite you if you wanted.” Tom glared at him tapping those fingers on his arms._ _

__“No, you really couldn’t.” Harry snorted. “You would just pass right through.”_ _

__Tom sighed very loudly and tried to shift the topic. “You should go back to bed. Your birthday is tomorrow and we will be heading into the magical world.”_ _

__A bit of excitement filled him at the thought, he had been waiting weeks for this. Listening to Tom’s boring explanations about money conversions, things such as blood stasis that seemed stupid to him, and a few traditions that were hard to remember the reason that they were celebrated, they were similar to some of the Holidays that he was familiar with. He had mentioned in passing a war that had torn up the wizarding world nearly 11 years ago and how his parents had fought in it._ _

__“I’ll go to bed if you tell me more about that world,” Harry said definitely pushing so the other would tell him more. “You said that my parents were killed in the wizarding war that was going on. I know now about the way it was done, but that doesn’t explain why you think that other Wizards and Witches will consider me famous.”_ _

__“Harry, you should sleep.”_ _

__“No, not till you tell me.” Harry folded his arms and stood his ground._ _

__There were no sounds but the striking of the clock in the living room and Tom was quiet still. Harry felt as if maybe he had pushed the other too far and he wasn’t going to talk to him but his soft hiss came and Harry felt something stir in the way that he spoke._ _

__“There were two sides of the war, there were those that were following someone that the other side considered to be evil. The current side, the winning side, thought that things should have been more inclusive, that magic should be shared and cherished by all. Equality is a nice idea in theory but in practice, it doesn't always work. There will always be those that are more powerful than others, those that seek understandings that don’t fit the norm. The sentiment of the side that considered itself the light side had led to many problems including degradation of culture and there were many that felt that their freedoms to celebrate holidays and rituals were being infringed on as anything that was considered to have blood magic or shades of the dark was to be banned.”_ _

__The way he told the tale was chilling in a way, there was near no emotion to it like he was just stating things that he had been feeling for a while, but the passion behind them had burned out. That he was just telling something that had to be told._ _

__“This person rose to power and was named the champion of the dark Lord Voldemort. He was trying to bring back the traditions of the magical world, though he might have lost the path along the way, and became obsessive with immortality and ensuring that he would be around to keep the world that he planned to build. Your parents were one of the last remaining light and the Dark Lord came to kill them. He succeeded in killing them, however, when he turned his wand on you, he was destroyed. They celebrated his death. And they believe that you are the cause of his death.”_ _

__“Why would he want to kill me…” Harry was broken out of the trance as he realized that Tom had stopped talking. “I was just a baby, a child, what sort of monster does that?”_ _

__“There was a prophecy.'' Tom's eyes shined in the dark his voice picking up slightly. “A child would be born at the end of July that would have a power that the Dark Lord would not, he would be marked as his equal, and he could only be destroyed by the child.”_ _

__Harry stilled a little at that, “But that's silly, prophecies in movies and books never really come true, there is just some twist of fate that makes it no true at all as people make choices and it changes.”_ _

__“He believed it to be true,” Tom said softly as if trying not to downplay the way that people had been killed for less._ _

__“But he killed himself by trying.” Harry let out a deep breath, “and he killed them just to get to me.”_ _

__“It is not your fault that they are dead,” Tom said eerie calm. “It was him that decided to take their lives.”_ _

__Harry studied him and a thought crawled its way to the front of his brain. “So how do you play into this Tom, were you there when my parents died?”_ _

__Tom did not miss a beat. “I was… and I was killed, part of my soul tethered itself to you as you were the only living thing in the area for it to latch onto and I wanted to live. I didn’t want to die. I am not sure what I am Harry, a fragment of a soul or a ghost, but I know that it is a shadow of what I once was.”_ _

__Harry could not tell if that was an attempt at humor or not. But he could feel a little bit of a weight in his chest with the knowledge that they were bound by souls. Perhaps that should have been more frightening than it was. He could understand not wanting to die. Harry was scared of it too, there had only been a few times that he thought that he was going to. The most prominent example was when he was at swim lessons because it was at the community center and it was free. He had nearly drowned and Harry was not really aware of Tom at that point but perhaps he played a role in getting the lifeguard to save him._ _

__“Which side were you on….” Harry felt a little uncomfortable now as if he had learned something very disturbing. But this was Tom, he might have been harsh to anyone besides Harry but he cared for him. He helped him with whatever trouble he found himself in._ _

__“Are you asking if I was on the light side or the dark side?” Tom was twisting his words again, he did not want to give a straight answer._ _

__“I actually do not care, not completely.” Harry decided as he said it that perhaps it was true because Tom was his friend, he had looked out for him for nearly 11 years even if it was because he might have been connected to him and needed to feed off of his magic to keep existing._ _

__Tom reached out and touched his scar, and Harry felt that prickle of warmth fill even his chest._ _

__“I used to believe that there was no such thing as good or evil, no light or dark sides, there was only power and those too weak to seek it to do something about the world that they saw flaws in.” Tom brushed his hair out of his face. “But now I can say with confidence I have seen true evil, in the form of the Dursleys.”_ _

__Harry actually laughed at that even if it did not answer his question. He took off his glasses for a moment to rub at his eyes and Tom retreated from him giving up the kind action._ _

__“You should rest Harry.”_ _

__And for once Harry completely agreed with Tom._ _

__They got up really early, as Tom explained that they needed to get to Diagon Alley so that they could send his response to Hogwarts and get his Magical guardian if needed to give him control over his bank vault. And so Harry stood in front of a bus stop with a large backpack that would help to carry all of his soon to be bought school books. The sun had yet to even rise and he was rubbing at his eyes because he was tired, but even so he could not regret forcing Tom to tell him more about what happened to his parents._ _

__The summoning charm that Tom told him to use worked because he found himself standing in front of a blue bus that seemed to have 3 layers. He looked up at it in shock, because it was such an odd thing and Tom chuckled beside him. Harry quickly shut his mouth because he did not want to look foolish._ _

__A man in robes opened the door, he tipped his hat in greetings, seeming to look if there was anyone else with Harry. “It will be 11 sickles to ride the bus wherever it is that you need to go, 13 if you want a nice warm or cold beverage. I recommend the hot chocolate.”_ _

__Harry counted out the sickles from his small coin pouch that he had taken from Aunt Petunia's nightside table and then handed over the 13 because he wanted the hot chocolate._ _

__“I need to go to Diagon Alley please sir, and I would like hot chocolate during the ride.”_ _

__The man nodded, accepting the coins, smiling friendly at him. “Well pick a bed and well get you there no problems._ _

__Harry didn’t even get to his spot before the bus started moving again. The beds went every which way and he was amazed that nothing was spilling out of the cup that he was holding with both hands. Tom stood at his side unaffected by the bus's harsh turns._ _

__“What is your name kid?” The assistant to the driver asked, taking out his paper so that he could read it as they went._ _

__“Harry.” He didn’t want to give his last name by the way that Tom was eyeing him. He was probably concerned about what could happen, should he? The familiar warning of don’t talk to strangers entered his head, but then his Aunt had only probably said that as a way to make sure that he didn’t talk to protective services when he was younger._ _

__“You off to get your supplies, Harry?” The man smiled knowingly._ _

__Harry shrugged, taking a sip from his mug. It was nice he liked watching the light rain that was starting to fall outside against the window. He could see the lights of the cars they were swerving around, and the rising of the sun, just as it poked through the more gray clouds. It made the sky have pretty red and flicks of gold._ _

__“Well, I hope that it clears up for you.” The man nodded his head and went back to minding his own business which seemed to relax Tom greatly as he was not hovering as closely._ _

__Harry supposed that it was correct for him to worry. They were no longer among Muggles and while Harry was certainly more powerful than his relatives, he didn’t know how he would fare against actually trained full-grown Wizards and Witches. He would not show that he was a bit nervous though. He had to be determined, brave, and smart if he was going to be starting his life away from the cupboard, it was not as hard to be brave though when he had Tom next to him that probably could have helped to get him out of a scuffle._ _

__The entrance to the Wizarding World was hidden inside a pub. Harry felt like he was almost doing something wrong by entering it. The way that there were a handful of people that were looking at him over their drinks. Tom though started making his way towards the back and Harry felt as if there was a small tug when Tom was getting too far ahead of him. No one seemed to notice Tom though. So perhaps because their souls were tangled only Harry could see him._ _

__Tom pressed his hand against a brick and then another and then back again and there was the sound of rumbling. And it gave way to a world of cloaked people and he could feel the magic in the air. He could not keep his head from being on a swivel as he made his way further from the wall that he had come from._ _

__“Welcome to Diagon Alley.” Tom hissed to him._ _

__

__It did not take long to get to the bank. There were a lot of goblins around and Harry had been advised when he had been listening to all Tom’s lectures of the magical world not to insult them because they held grudges a mile long, and wide. He politely made his way up to the teller._ _

__“Excuse me, my name is Harry Potter and I am here to make a withdrawal.”_ _

__“And do you Mr. Potter have your key?” The goblin that just might be only slightly shorter than him peered over the desk._ _

__“No, because My magical guardian has not been in contact with me and I am in need of buying my supplies. I heard that if you give me a blood test to prove I am who I say I am, that I can have a new key made and go about my business.”_ _

__The goblin seemed to be thinking it over as his nose crinkled and he looked over to his side as if he could see Tom was standing next to him, before swinging his head back to the paper in front of him._ _

__“We could do a test for you Mr. Potter and give you the paperwork of your standing accounts. However, this will cost you 50 gallons.”_ _

__The big eyes were focused again on him._ _

___“Barter with him, start at 30.”_ Tom hissed in his ear leaning closer. Perhaps he could not see Tom but the goblin seemed to be able to feel some sort of magic in the air because he narrowed his eyes a little. _ _

__“50 seems high, I'll give you 30 when my accounts are settled.” Harry followed Tom’s instructions._ _

__The goblin looked at him with a wicked smile then as if it had figured out some sort of game was being played. “45 seems reasonable does it not.”_ _

__“30,” Harry repeated._ _

__“45 but I will not go lower.” The banker folded his arms, his long nails tapping._ _

___“Offer 40.”_ Tom butted in again._ _

__“40.” Harry met the look._ _

__“Deal Mr. Potter.” He reached out his hand and Harry shook it and then followed the goblin as he got down from his elevated desk. He led the way towards the lower parts of the bank._ _

__“Lavorx will be with you shortly to help with the accounts and titles.”_ _

__Harry busied himself by reading a book. Finally, a small goblin that just might have been considered ancient stepped into the room._ _

__“Good morning, I am Larorx. I will be doing a blood test to make sure that you are who you say you are.” The goblin took out a small blue piece of parchment and a small needle. “Please prick your finger and let the blood drip onto the paper.”_ _

__Harry did as he was told._ _

__The paper turned a purple color when his blood touched it._ _

__Lavorx nodded. “All is in order then follow me.”_ _

__He moved behind the desk and pulled out a few pamphlets for harry._ _

__“These are copies of records for your accounts, and the amounts that have been set aside for your schooling. I also have here lists of properties and Lordships, however, there is no way to claim any titles until you are the age of 17.”_ _

__Harry decided it was best to just nod at that._ _

__“I will send Griphook to take you to your vault. He will make sure that you are only taking the amount that you are supposed to for your first year of enrollment.”_ _

__“May I ask who set the limits on the amounts I am allowed to withdraw.”_ _

__The goblin nodded. “Yes of course. The person that placed these limits is Albus Dumbledore.”_ _

__That name he had heard before. Tom had cursed it every which way and that._ _

__“I see.” was all Harry said as he watched the mini-meltdown that was happening next to him. Again he could feel a tad bit of magic form Tom and the goblin might have felt it too. He noted to himself to ask Tom more about Dumbledore, later._ _

__Getting the coins was not a hard task. Griphook turned a blind eye for a minute and Harry put a few extras into his other pouch. He was on his way out of the bank when he saw the largest man that he had ever seen. He looked like he had to be a giant, his hair was fuzzy and looked as though he could have a nest built into that, and his beard blended in perfectly with his hair as there seemed no end to either._ _

__Tom scowled next to him whatever satisfaction that they were going to get out of the bank before 10 am was apparently lost._ _

__“Harry.” The man called his name and Harry gave a quick glance over at Tom. The giant made his way over and it seemed there was little chance to slip off. “Blimey Harry I have been looking all over for you, fortunately, I got words that yah were heres.”_ _

__“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Harry asked again, shifting a little towards Tom because the whole stranger danger thing just hit new proportions._ _

__“Of course! I am Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts.” The large man sniffed. “I haven’t seen yah since you were a baby and all, but I see that you have grown. Not every day that a young man turns 11 after all. I went to get you to take you shoppin, bu’ I may have made Vernon the big old prune very upset by breakin his door knockin on it. E didn’t know where yer were at bu’ I figured it out.”_ _

__He looked very proud of himself, but then frowned a second as he searched his pockets. “This is fer yah.” He handed Harry a box and inside was a birthday cake. “Might be a bit squished, bu’ it’ll taste fine. I am sure all the same.”_ _

__Harry had never gotten a cake before but even with the words misspelled and the icing falling off in places, it was rather nice of him. “Thank you.”_ _

__The man looked happier if that was even possible._ _

__Tom hissed at him from behind, his shadowy fingers gripping nothing but resting on his shoulder. Harry could tell that he wanted to put pressure there. _How do we know to trust him?__ _

__Tom was as worried and cautious as ever._ _

__Harry shrugged but still was smiling at Hagrid. “Did you see my cousin, she has a pale face doesn’t she?”_ _

__“I didn’t see no girl but I did see a boy. Didn’t think that Petunia would have more than one the way she put so many pictures of that boy up.”_ _

__Harry looked smugly at Tom who sighed because that did at least prove that the other had some knowledge of their situation._ _

__“I was testing you. Now that I know you’re here to really show me around I can politely accept.” Harry stuck out his hand and a few people were now looking at him. And the larger man carefully took it, he was gentle for someone that was so big._ _

__“Ah well, that is very clever of yah.” Hagrid seemed to take a moment to recover. “Yer possibly a Ravenclaw.”_ _

__Harry shrugged he didn’t have a real preference for what house that he was placed into. It all seemed like an adventure for him and he would do just about anything to not go back to his relatives._ _

__The first place that he went was to get his robes done as they could do the rest of the shopping while they waited for those to be mended. Hagrid also insisted that he had a few things to set in order post wise. Harry didn’t mind at all as he really didn’t need an escort as he had Tom. Even if Tom had not been in the area for a long time he seemed to know his way decently enough around._ _

__The robe shop had a nice sign in front of it, with painted brick in nice bright colors. ‘Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions.’ He really didn’t need them for all occasions but certainly needed his school ones._ _

__Madam Malkins was a squat, smiling Witch dressed in mauve. “Hogwarts, dear? She asked when Harry started to open the door holding it a bit longer to allow for Tom to enter the room and not have his shadows dispersed._ _

__“I have a lot here, have another young man being fitted up just now in fact.” Harry could see in the back of the shop there was a pale boy with a pointed face. He sort of looked pretty in a way, almost like he was not really a boy. He was standing on a footstool while a second witch was pinning up his longer black robes._ _

__“Hello.” The boy greeted. “Hogwarts too right?”_ _

__“Yes.” Harry nodded following Malkins to his own stool._ _

__“My father is next door buying my books and my mothers up the street looking at wands.” The boy said he had this drawling voice that almost seemed like it had to be faked. He almost laughed at it but managed to catch himself because this kid could be in his future classes, and he did want to make friends after all. “When they're done I think I am going to drag them off to look at racing brooms, it is a shame that first years can't have their own. I might bully father into getting me one anyway and sneak it into the place some how.”_ _

__Even though he was trying to reserve judgment Harry could not help but be reminded of Dudley and his want for anything under the sun, and his need to break rules because he was too good for them._ _

__“Have you got your own broom.” The boy went on not noticing that Harry had yet to say anything. Tom was looking quite annoyed with the other. He was staring at him as if he was considering pushing him off the stool._ _

__“No.” Harry said, “I have never flown before.”_ _

__It still sounded really nice to fly, he smiled thinking of the brooms that he had seen in the window on his way to the bank._ _

__“Oh, so you never have played quidditch at all then.” The boy sounded a tad disappointed with that. “I play a lot. My father says that it will be a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house and I must say that I agree with him.”_ _

__“Of course you do,” Harry muttered as the boy continued to ramble on unbothered. Tom was rolling his eyes right along with Harry. He could not help but wonder if the boy next to him had any skill or was just bragging for the sake of it._ _

__“Do you know what house you will be in?” The pretty blond changed the topic, his pale eyes squinting as if he was trying to figure out what house Harry would be by looking at him. As Harry sated at him the boy blinked silver eyes at him as if he had been waiting for an answer. because of course, yes, now the other wanted him to say something._ _

__“No.” Harry said politely, “but I have a few guesses.”_ _

__“Well no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know that I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been imagining being something like Hufflepuff. I think I would leave wouldn’t you?”_ _

__“I don’t think I would.” Harry shrugged his shoulders already tiring of the conversation that he was very trapped in. “I would be happy to be in any house really. It's not like it matters all that much, I can study no matter where I am placed.”_ _

__The boy looked at him like he was funny or something before pointing at Hagrid again switching topics so fast that it could cause whiplash. “Good Merlin, look at that man!”_ _

__“That's just Hagrid.” Harry shook his head looking at the others' faces. He looked like he had never seen anything like him before and that he was slightly disgusted at him. It made Harry frown. “He works at Hogwarts._ _

__“Oh I think I have heard of him, he is a servant right?”_ _

__“Gamekeeper there is a difference.” Harry sighed._ _

__“Same thing.” The boy shook his head. “I heard that he is a bit of a savage, lives in a hut an the grounds and every once and a whole gets drunk and nearly burns down his shed.”_ _

__“I think he is a kind man.” Harry defended._ _

__“Do you?'' The boy said with a slight sneer his nose scrunching as if he had smelled something awful. "Why is he with you, where are your parents?”_ _

__“They are dead actually.” Harry said shortly, “and if it is all the same to you I don’t feel like discussing it.”_ _

__He was starting to really not like this boy._ _

__“Sorry.” The blond didn’t sound that way at all. “But they were our kind weren’t they.”_ _

__“Yes, they were, not that it really matters.”_ _

__“Doesn’t matter?” The other gapped. “They shouldn’t let the others in don’t you think? They aren’t the same. They’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never heard of Hogwarts until they get their letters.”_ _

__“If they were introduced properly then it shouldn’t matter,” Harry said flatly. “Not everyone grows up in a nice place and they shouldn’t be left to rot just because they didn’t know what they were.”_ _

__God knew where Harry would have been without Tom to teach him about his magic and such._ _

__Malkin interrupted the conversation as if sensing that it was going south. “You’re done, my dear.” She looked at Harry knowingly and Harry quickly and happily got off his stool._ _

__“See you at Hogwarts.” The boy said as if he was inviting them to be friends but Harry was not sure that he wanted anything to do with the other. He went to get quills and ink next and he liked the way that some changed color as a person wrote._ _

___“It's not that impressive.”_ Tom said grumply. _ _

__It took Harry a little bit into the next store as they were buying potion supplies to realize that Tom was jealous as he seemed to want to be the one to introduce Harry to the world of magic. As to be kind to him Harry ditched Hagrid in the crowd to make sure that they went together to the bookstore alone. He got a few of his books, but Tom seemed to just take off. Harry had never seen someone so happy to be in a bookstore. Tom drifted between the shelves looking at books that perhaps Harry was far too young to look at the way that the shopkeeper was eyeing him. He moved through the shelves with a purpose. Tom wasn't slowing down either he brushed covers and would duck down a different way._ _

__“Tom, what are you looking for?” Harry asked when he was sure that he wasn’t being watched._ _

__“Something that they might not have here,” Tom answered cryptically. “But I might need.”_ _

__Harry noted that the selves were labeled defense against the dark arts and a few were labeled plainly dark arts. Tom was looking quickly over titles and shifting things around just slightly._ _

__“Tom.” Harry hissed softly, starting to get unnerved by the way that people were starting to look his way._ _

__Tom turned away from the shelves “this one might be helpful.” He pointed to a book that didn’t seem to have a title. It was leather-bound and as Harry peered at it He felt a hand on him. It was Hagrid he had somehow figured out where he was heading… figured that he would be able to see pretty far with how tall he was._ _

__“Best not be lookin in this section Harry, people will thinkin yer up to no good.” The man advised._ _

__“Why sell it then?” Harry blinked and Tom was trying to move the book. It wiggled on its place on the shelf._ _

__“There are those that still are practicing it.” Hagrid looked distastefully at the shelf. “Look, that stuff is dangerous. Few wizards went as bad as you can go, with the stuff including you-know-who.”_ _

__“You know who, do you mean Voldemort?” Harry asked knowing only one Dark Lord that he might be hinted at._ _

__“Shhhhhh.” Hagrid shushed him. “Don’t say his name, but yes.”_ _

__Harry just nodded noticing that Tom had knocked the book onto the floor and towards the books that Harry had gathered. It was easy enough to pick it up with the others. Hagrid was none the wiser and even as the Shopkeeper looked at Hagrid a little as if judging him slightly by the used book that was now safely in Harry’s book bag Harry figured that Tom wouldn’t ask him to get him something if it was not important. But it added a second thing to ask Tom about later._ _

__They stopped for ice cream after and Harry enjoyed his treat but felt a little bad that Tom could do nothing but sit in the chair next to him. He watched Harry much like he did at the Dursleys. Least now he would have a book to entertain himself, turning the page probably did not take that much energy when they got home Harry would make sure he aimed the wall light so that Tom could read._ _

__“We still got yer wand left.” Hagrid finished his treat. “And well I have yet to get yah a birthday gift.”_ _

__“Oh… You don’t have to.” Harry had never gotten a birthday gift before and it seemed that his first would be from a near stranger that just knew a little bit about him and his parents. Hagrid was really kind to offer that._ _

__“I want to.” Hagrid beamed. “I wouldn’t do anythin I didn’t want to.”_ _

__So Harry entered the wand shop with Tom and let Hagrid go off in search of a gift._ _

___"I got my wand here."_ Tom said almost pleased, _"The place doesn’t seem to have changed at all."_ _ _

__There were rows and rows of wands on every shelf. The place was ancient and covered in dust. But it almost felt sort of homely in an odd way, comforting as his cupboard could be._ _

__An old man that must have been Oloivander smiled when he saw him. “Good afternoon.” He had a very soft voice, one that Harry had to strain to hear._ _

__“Hello.” Harry greeted politely._ _

__“Ah yes.” The old man nodded to himself. “I thought that I would be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seemed only yesterday that she was in here herself buying her first wand.”_ _

__His eyes were now sparkling a little. “Ten and a quarter inches, long swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”_ _

__It was a little odd that he remembered that but Harry nodded in acceptance of what the old man was saying. Mr. Ollivander moved closer to him._ _

__“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it but it is really the wand that chooses the Wizard of course."_ _

__Harry had not known that but nodded as if he did. The man was too close now, he almost seemed creepy now._ _

__“And this is where…” He hesitated for a second as he touched the lighting bolt scar and quickly retracted his hand as Tom made a very haunting face beside him. “I am sorry that I sold the wand that did that.” Ollivander backed away. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. powerful wand, very powerful in the wrong hands….if I knew… what it was going to be released into the world to do.”_ _

__He shook his head and Harry did feel a stab of pity for the man as he probably was just really old and had a lot of guilt. To sell a weapon to someone that was seen as evil must have weighed heavily on his mind._ _

__He shook his head. “Which wand arm are you?”_ _

__Harry felt his face flush, “Well I am left-handed, but my Aunt tries to make me use my right.”_ _

__“Hold out your arm.” Olivander measured him from his shoulder to his pointer finger. He then backed towards the shelves._ _

__“None of my wands are the same. I use very powerful cores here, unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and dragons heart. You will never get as good results with another wizard's wand.”_ _

__He pulled out some boxes from the many shelves._ _

__He had him try a few wands and Harry felt a little silly waving a wand around, as he had never had to use one before to command his magic. Tom watched curiously from his place by the counter. He had an issue trying to touch the wands that were on display._ _

__“Tricky customer not to worry, I will find you one. There is always a wand here for a Wizard.” He hesitated. “I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."_ _

__Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. There was a hum and he could feel it down to his very core. Tom seemed to note it as well as he was gripping a tad at his chest. Harry took a deep breath and raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. They faded like dying stars and embers. The color reminded him a lot of Tom’s red eyes._ _

__Tom was clapping softly a slight smile on his features as Harry realized that he was grinning madly because he had never made anything so beautiful with his magic before._ _

__Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."_ _

__He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..."_ _

__"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"_ _

__Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare and he almost felt silly for asking. The man was definitely the odd sort._ _

__"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."_ _

__Harry swallowed and felt a little disgusted that the wand that had killed so many, even his parents, was related to his wand._ _

__"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great.”_ _

__Harry suddenly didn’t feel as happy about his wand. Tom though was looking at it very closely as it was put into a bag and handed off to Harry. It was strange behavior that Harry could yet again not ask about._ _

__The chill was taken out of the air when Hagrid returned with a gift. Hagrid gave him a beautiful snowy owl Harry who had never had a pet in his life took a liking to her immediately as she was an intelligent bird and seemed to be able to see Tom. She watched him from her perch in the small traveling cage that Hagrid had gotten her for transport. She playfully nipped at his fingers as he stroked her through the bars. He was tired by the time that he reached the night bus stop. He had a feeling that he was only going to be more tired when it came to the fact that he had to face the Dursleys and the aftermath of Hagrid knocking in there door._ _


	6. Chapter 6

_The escape from the Dursleys & the Never ending Train Ride _

_The room is cold. The little boy can see his breath as he lets it out. It trails up and towards the high ceiling. It's dark but there is a bulb that hangs over his head. It flickers as it rocks back and forward. By the footsteps that are above him. He watches it sway with bright brown eyes, ones that glisten and he refuses to let the tears fall from his eyes. They are not worth it. He tells himself over and over. They are not worth giving the satisfaction of hearing him cry. He won’t do it. He tells it to himself so harshly that he has no choice but to believe that it is the truth. And so he blinks them all away. He feels the moisture freeze on his cheeks._

_He keeps his body tightly scrunched up into himself so that he can have some sort of warmth. But orphans don’t get anything but cheap cotton clothes that are too thin and the night clothes feel even thinner by how worn they are. One should never dream to want anything as nice as wool. His hair is standing by and he buries his head into his arms, feeling along the bumps on his knees. They are red and raw and they hurt._

He wakes from what must be the first dream that he has had in years, even though he knows that it is not really a complete dream. More of a nightmare of a memory. It’s because Harry is having them, and he asked him to lay close to him. Even though half of his form just puffs out on the mattress. He has followed this request. Because it is his fault that Harry fears and dreams of green lights, Dark Lords, and his imagined image of Voldemort. More than he had feared his Uncle or his family he fears the person that took what could have been from him. He fears the capability to go dark like the person that held his brother wand. 

He can do little to help. He rubs his head and pats without pressure on the boy’s back. Harry is grateful for it of course. He is grateful that Tom is his friend and understands his want to be better than them. Better than the Dark Lord that had to have had a bad life to go so wrong. Because how could someone hurt others so viciously? 

Voldemort had told him at every occasion that there is no way that He could be as bad as the Dark Lord. Because even if Harry would be able to kill others and forgo that little bit of humanity, there was no way that he would go down the path that Tom Riddle did. Voldemort could not see him getting as lost as he did in the dark arts, hate, and a need to prove himself. Because Harry was not nearly as bitter about his relatives as Voldemort had been with the orphanage children and the caregivers. He didn’t have to deal with the word Mudblood spat at him by all in his house. There would be no such pressures to conform to the wizard pureblood ideals or to pretend to subscribe to some of them. Harry would not resent parts of what made him up. He hopefully could be presided to understand the dangers that Mudbloods did pose though. 

Voldemort would not allow Harry to walk a path that was worse than his. Which all things considering made him feel almost sick with how soft he was for the boy. But part of him resided in Harry and it drew him into its gravitational pull. It gave him clarity. It gave him purpose again. 

No, Harry would never go as dark as he had. Harry might hate his remaining family-like Voldemort had, but he held his “Tom’ back from causing lasting damage. Harry would not let him kill them. Any of them. Even if they would be better off perhaps if they were gone. Killing Vernon would be the only one that he really would have to get rid of and life would have improved by at least 50% if not more and all of the cleaning lady population would have sent him flowers. 

Harry was better than he was...

Killing was wrong, Voldemort knew that in a basic sense, though he would probably argue it, and it solved a lot of his problems in the past. If Harry didn’t want to dirty his little hands. Voldemort would have done it for him. They could build that nice world that Harry wanted, it could fit with the one that Voldemort wanted to create. There was a way to have both. Harry could be his reason to show mercy. 

Mercy that some certainly did not deserve...

Harry slept soundly and Voldemort looked at the ceiling where the clip-on light was dangling from a few loose nails that Harry had wrapped the cord around. This space was getting too cramped with the trunk taking up more than half of the space and Harry had put everything that he owned into it. Be that not much but anything to make room. 

He couldn’t use his wand after this summer so Voldemort took advantage of teaching him spells, and trying to help him get a head start on his classes. Between reading his own book of course. He was happy that Harry could not read Latin as he could. Older books like this one were not always as uncommon as people thought. They didn’t sell to the usual client because they didn’t know how to read it or they would take forever translating it. As such it was probably why the shopkeeper knew that it was a dark book, but had no idea the information that it contained. 

Voldemort needed to know as much as he could about souls that had been fractured. True there was never anyone that went out of their way to make more than one Horcrux. That honor of stupidity had probably been his and his alone. But there were other ways to fracture a soul then murdering someone. There were cases of people that had been under so much stress and trauma that it had severed part of their soul or caused deep-running cracks. 

He didn’t know if there was any way to heal the damage that he had done to his soul but it was worth looking into ways to. He had a feeling that part of the reason that he was weaker and could not do anything without Harry or get far from him was because there was so little of him left.

So little…

He knew that doing what he had done, tore the soul. It tore it and broke it off into chunks. It might not have taken exactly half each time, but no matter how one cracked a glass on the ground there were going to be bigger and smaller chunks. And he kept breaking the remaining larger chunks into smaller and smaller pieces. 

Souls looked for things to heal the damage, make up for the missing parts, and before he had ignored this wish. He kept the small remnants to himself. But at his weakest, it had sought something else out, had chosen to nestle its way into Harry, and make up for the trauma that it had suffered. Harry’s soul had been whole, and it took a small insignificant piece of him in, and what was left of him seemed to have been at least partially mended by it. 

It was impossible not to be grateful. 

So he took matters into his own hands as the summer ended. He would make sure that Harry made his train and made the right choices when he got to Hogwarts. 

“What do you mean that you will cause a distraction while I use the phone?” Harry is folding his arms defensively. He does not like this plan, but it is mostly because trying to mess with the kitchen phone is to mess with things outside of their domain. 

“I am saying that we can not rely on Magical Transport to get to Kings Cross Station. It is best to use Muggle transportation.” 

“But we have gold not pounds.” Harry points out. “And they will hear me on the phone for sure.”

“Not if I cause a big enough distraction, keep up please Harry. While I make them wish that they had never mistreated the magical child in their care you will make the telephone call to this cab service. Don’t worry about the money. Petunia always carries at least 500 in her purse.”

“Now were stealing too. Harry shakes his head. “You know it's not right to do that even if they are really shitty people.”

“Language Harry.” He can’t believe that an 11-year-old is saying such things, he would be impressed if it wasn’t that Harry was a little too innocent to be using it. 

“Why you never watch yours?” Harry tilts his head and his glasses shimmer in the dull lighting. 

“That is because I am a lot older than you, and no one else can hear me.” Voldemort tries to point out. 

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Harry childishly points out and he doesn’t seem like he will be backing down from using it. Well if the worst thing he corrupts Harry with at the moment was language he supposes that he should be grateful. Wait… He was supposed to be swaying him to be more inclined towards some of the darker things, language should be the first step on this path to greatness.

“Well, life is not fair.” Voldemort recovers, “If it were we would not be in this house, and I would not be taking what you are owed from your Aunt.”

“I suppose she does owe me, what with not doing the things she should as a caregiver and not treating me like any decent human being should be treated and all that.” Harry relents sullenly and Voldemort savors his small victory. Because Harry is going to go along with his plan.

“Just make sure that your distraction does not kill them.” 

“Oh it won’t kill them but it will scare them.” Voldemort laughs because he has been saving this idea for a very special occasion. He has waited years to play it and he can not think of something that is more horrifying and scaring. It will make the perfect distraction. 

“Why do I feel like I have given you permission to do something that I am going to regret.” Harry narrows his eyes at him and Voldemort shrugs his more solid form. He will not deny that Harry could find he didn’t like this decision. 

“Oh there will be regrets but that will be on the side of the Dursleys. And I promise there will be limited trauma.” Voldemort holds up his hand to make a promise. 

“That makes me feel really better about this.” He’s smiling though and Voldemort feels a slight warmth in his chest with the permission to act. 

Harry repacks everything in his trunk into an organized pattern, he asks if he should bring anything else that he has left out of his trunk. Voldemort recommends during the havoc that he is about to raise that Harry grabs a few snacks for the ride, preferably the nice ones that Petunia would save for Dudley’s lunches. 

As Harry sneaks his way to the kitchen Voldemort sneaks his way into the yard through an open window. He hisses softly and calls forth all the snakes that have been nesting and living under the pavement of the patio. There are hundreds of them, they like to ball up and burrow together when it is too cool out and it just so happens to be a cool morning. The snakes file into the home through the window and the mail slot. Voldemort barrows perhaps a little more magic than he should to cast a duplication spell so every single real snake touched will bring about another fake one. 

And he then enters the home to watch. 

It is priceless the way that Harry is attempting to make a cab call with hundreds of snakes hissing as they rampage their way through the home.

“Please ignore the screaming, my cousin has a snake and it’s loose.” He calmly tries to convince the cabby. Voldemort has to hand it to Harry, he hardly makes a face as a few of the fakes slitter over his feet. There is no way to escape them though, for every single one that Parunita hits with a broom makes more form and erupts outward. Vernon, who is terrified of snakes, is making incoherent walrus noises. Dudley is crying profusely. 

And Voldemort does not think that he has ever laughed so hard in his life. Watching as Harry runs over more of the snakes with his things, trying to escape the house as it fills up more and more with wriggling bodies. 

Upon seeing Harry, Petunia the only one able to do anything at the moment screams at him to fix the mess, but by that time he has wretched the door open. She follows him or attempts to. She trips on the coat rack that has been knocked over and is swarmed. 

Harry runs with Petunia's pink purse slung over his shoulder, his owl, and his trunk dragging behind him. The snakes start filling out into the street and the cab driver must have had the most eye-opening reassessment of his career choices as Harry all but throws all his things into the car and demands that he start driving. 

One of the real snakes' charm has worn off of it and Harry lets it make a home in his hood. 

The man wisely does, not questioning the young teenager that is in strange clothes, has an owl, and is digging through his aunt's purse in the back seat. 

Harry takes out anything of use, tossing things like feminine products and other useless things like house keys to the floor. He saves the candy, money, hand sanitizer, hairpins, brush, and tissues which are all sensible items to save. He puts the sunglasses over his regular glasses in a fashion statement that is even bolder than wearing robes around Muggle London. 

As they step out of the cab, Harry finally comments on his plan. “Tom if we ever do this again, we should add spiders to the mix.” 

“That just might be even too evil for me Harry.” Voldemort grins at the boy, leaning closer to him. “But if you deem it so then it shall be. Spiders, snakes, and something that actually may be slimy like worms?”

“Well they are not exactly slimy but centipedes are pretty gross,” Harry suggests as they make their way into the train station.

“Anything you want,” Voldemort promises him. 

Harry watches a group of redheads announce that they are going through the barrier and Harry looks over to Voldemort with a raised eyebrow because he even knows that is a stupid thing to do. Too stupid of a thing to do. Voldemort almost feels like they are trying deliberately to get their attention for what end he is not certain. He advises Harry to avoid them, as they are foolish. 

Harry just shrugs as he makes his way through the barrier. There are a lot of people at the station; one person that he immediately recognizes is Lucius Malfoy. He knows that the other can not see him but he glares at him and he looks at his little shit of a son. The boy from the robe shop is pulling on his mother's sleeve pointing at people that he thinks are dressed cheaply. There is nothing more eye-opening than watching one of your supposedly most loyal followers flaunting his ministry position to any that he stops to talk with. 

He is yanked hard as Harry gets too far away from him, mixing with the other children. As he is dragged through the crowd of students, Voldemort can hear parts of their conversations and remembers again why he hates children. He realized as the train doors close behind Harry that he is going to be trapped going to classes with Harry for the next 9 months. 

Great…first year classes would not be nearly as interesting as the older year classes. He would just have to keep his sanity until then. Harry takes a seat with the purse still on him and the snacks that he has gathered. He picks a car that has a boy and a girl already in it. 

The girl is reading a book on Hogwarts so it is easy to deduce that she is a Mudblood. She looks up when Harry sits down and offers a small smile at him, her front teeth are larger than all her others. Making her look like a beaver slightly. Her hair could count as a mane. 

At least the boy looks Normal.  
“Hello.” Harry greets them. 

“You have a purse.” The boy stutters out.

“So I do,” says Harry. “It's full of pretty useful things.” 

“It’s pink.” The girl finds a need to repeat the obvious. “And are you wearing sunglasses over your glasses?”

Harry shrugs, taking them off. “It was bright out, and I don’t have a prescription pair of sunglasses, thus this was my solution.” 

“Well, I suppose that it is inventive the way you balanced them even if they looked a little silly.” She concedes. 

Oh no. Harry is smiling. He can’t really be considering being friends with her right? Then again this was Harry, didn’t have a chance at friends before, his standards were probably low enough that he would take anyone that was willing to talk to him and not sound like Draco. He doesn’t butt in though because he has a feeling that if he complains Harry will not only ignore him, but be upset with him. And when Harry is upset with him, he tends to do exactly the opposite of what he suggests him to do. He is hotwired to be Voldemort's counter in nearly every way.

“Thanks, I heard that I would make a great Ravenclaw even if my parents were both Gryffindor.” Harry bounces a little in his seat. He is happy and excited at the prospect of school. 

“I suppose that I will be a Ravenclaw as well.” The girl nods. “But I would be happy with any house, it is really exciting to be going to a magical school.”

The boy next to Harry is holding something a little tighter in his hands. It's a Toad and it is looking at Voldemort and its throat is puffed up. The thing is trying to intimidate him. Voldemort glares at it and it struggles harder to get out of the boy's hands. 

Harry glances over at him and Voldemort pretends that he is listening to the girl talk about how she thinks things will go the first year. 

“My name is Hermione Granger by the way.” She adds after her rant. 

“I’m Neville Longbottom,” The boy says softly. 

“Harry,” Harry says proudly. “Harry Potter.” 

Voldemort covers his mouth as not to show he wants to laugh at the happiness the other has in introducing himself. 

They both look at him and the happiness dies and Voldemort shifts in his seat. If they are rude to Harry he is going to make sure that the toad gets it. 

“Oh please don’t be like that. I don’t remember defeating Voldemort, I was a baby. There isn’t a reason that I should be famous. I’m just Harry okay? Most things that have been written about me aren’t true.” Harry shifts uneasily. 

“Well of course not.” Hermione shakes her head. “There is not a boy alive that I have heard of that can get a unicorn to let them ride it. I knew those children's books were complete lies when I was in the book shop.” 

“They seriously have children's books about me, Tom kill me now.” Harry shakes his head. 

“Who’s Tom,” Neville asks. 

“Him.” Harry smartly takes out of his hood the snake that has been resting in it. 

Well, it would excuse him from talking to the real ‘Tom’, not that he thinks its a good idea for Harry to reveal that he talks to snakes. Dumbledore will be looking for any reason to cause his Harry more problems. 

“That isn’t on the pet list.” Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Please don’t tell.” Harry plays it off innocently. “My aunt hates him and wouldn’t have fed him.” 

“It was good for you to take it, we won’t tell.” Neville surprises Voldemort, the toad just might survive the train ride. 

The conversation shifts easily to things that children would be interested in and Voldemort tunes everything out until he makes one movement too quickly and the fricking toad escapes and both Hermione and Harry agree to help Neville chase after it. He sighs as he is pulled to each individual car chasing the thing because it has to be a magic toad familiar and it has the ability to if it is panicked enough teleport. 

He takes it all back. He is going to kill that toad when he gets his hands on it.


	7. Chapter 7

_The Laughing Hat_

Harry has to admit his friend Tom might really be a Demon. After he died his soul was spat back up from the depths of hell to latch himself onto an unexpecting child. Tom then went and got himself attached to him and his soul. That part he is still working out exactly how they are bound together. But he thinks his life would not be nearly as tolerable without him. Even if he can be a scheming git. Harry has to accept that he likes him, fits of rage and all.

Yes, Tom is perhaps a devil. He likes to make deals and he causes a world of mischief. Because of his latest plot, Harry doesn’t think that he will ever be able to go back to the Dursleys with the stunt they pulled. But even at the possibility of homelessness for 3 months in the summer, Harry can’t say that it wasn’t worth it to see his Uncle blubbering like a beached whale. 

Even if Harry dies an old man, which with his luck is unlikely, he will still find the house filled with snakes a fond memory. He wonders how they will manage to explain that many snakes away. He hopes they can’t and that they end up on the evening news. It would make Petunia that likes to gossip the talk of the town, rather than her talking about whoever disgusts her and making it into a big deal. 

He has fun with his two new friends chasing Trevor the toad is really fast and very jumpy. Finally, Tom has enough and tells Harry that he should summon it back to him. Which really is a much better plan than what they have been doing. 

They were getting a lot of funny looks and he could hear people whisper was that Harry Potter? 

He tries to ignore it as he holds the Toad on their way back to their compartment. Tom looks like he is exhausted all of his patience for nonsense. He has his red eyes narrowed, his shoulders are hunched up, and he, if he had teeth, would probably be gritting them. Harry makes sure to hold the car door open a tad longer to make sure that his form is not disrupted as they enter the car. 

With Trevor in his career that is enchanted to keep him there. They are able to relax. Neville is very happy that he has not lost him. He keeps thanking Harry for it, but it was really nothing. It embarrasses him slightly. But he likes Neville; he didn’t press the whole famous thing. 

The boy from the robe shop is wandering the train with a few other boys. And Harry would prefer that they do not see him but it seems impossible so he covers his scar with his hand while resting it on his lap, and just pretends to be very interested in Hermione’s explanation on how her parents are revolutionary in the dental fields. So when the other boy hears her talking about something so Muggle he scuffs and continues browsing the train’s halls. 

Harry hears Tom mutter about how he doubts that they are great dentists because of the look of her front teeth, but can’t say anything about it, because if he makes a face that will make Hermione think that what she is saying is uninteresting. And since Harry knows very little about teeth other than fairies like the magical ones he listens to her and then adds all that he knows. Neville likes the conversation switch to fairies he has a couple that he has seen in his gardens. They like to make beds among the roses. Neville likes gardening and Harry has a lot of experience with yard keep. He talks about how he would like to have trimmed the front tree into a shape but that might just kill his Aunt.

When the trolly comes by Harry wants to try a few of everything. He has never had Wizard candy and he has never had anything to share with others and so he gladly does with his new possible friends. He finally gets to a small box with a chocolate frog. After it, unfortunately, makes itself Kermit suicide by jumping out of the train window before he gets a chance to eat it, he takes a good look at the card that was in the box.

There is a man with a long crooked nose and half-moon glasses. He had long flowing hair and a beard that seemed to mix into it. He looked like he had come out of one of those old storybooks that the Library's children's section had. 

**Albus Dumbledore current headmaster at Hogwarts.**

_Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1946, the discovery of the 12 uses of dragon’s blood, and his work in alchemy with his partner Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

He blinks looking at the man that he had heard Tom curse to kingdom come and back. He never particularly asked too much about the man because that was enough usually to set Tom off, and ensure that something broke as he ranted on and on about how he picked favorites and left children to their own devices, that he was negligent and a scheming old coot. Harry knows that he is the one that placed him with the Durselys and set the limits on his accounts. Looking at the card he is not exactly sure how to feel about him. 

“That's a good card, Harry.” Neville nods in approval. “It's uncommon, but you can’t say that it isn’t an important one.” 

“Right.” Harry puts the card into his purse before Tom can look at it. 

When the train stops Tom practically jumps out of his seat. He patiently taps his foot waiting for Harry to get up, but he really doesn’t have feet, he has more of a robe when it comes to the bottom half of his shadows. But if he could Harry was sure that would be what he was doing. 

He leads Neville and Hermione out the nearest exit and is glad to be greeted by Hagrid.

Harry is very glad to have seen him. He smiles largely and tells him that he didn’t get in trouble for the door because Petunia was petrified that he would come back. Hagrid doesn’t seem to be too happy that he is the cause of his Aunt's worst nightmare up until probably his grand escape with the snakes. But he seems to have second thoughts by just how happy Harry is about it. 

Tom is being disrupted constantly with people running through him. He feels very bad for him. And loses interest in Hagrid’s attempts to herd the other first years. It is like trying to keep the attention of one of Mrs. Figgs cats. They all are too excited and mingling amongst themselves. Some are even scared of the woods that lay behind the train. 

Harry doesn’t fear the dark or the woods. He has seen plenty of scary things and he doubts that anything will get close to him with Tom nearby. Harry has not missed that animals and other magical things seem terrified of him. Trevor is still puffed up defensively, he is chirping every once and a while to tell Tom to back off. Harry isn’t scared of Tom at all, because he has heard the shadow bellyache about having to go to school with Harry and do nothing all day. No Tom is not scary once you get used to him, he is more of a complaining passive watcher of the world unless he thinks he has to help Harry with something. He has a feeling that Tom is going to be complaining a lot this school year. 

They get into the boats, they are very sturdy for such small things, Harry wants to sit with Hagrid but he can’t really get close enough with everyone pushing to get forward. He ends up with Hermione, Neville, and the boy from the robe shop that seems to have lost Thug kid 1 and Thug kid 2.

They all sit quietly for a few moments. 

“You're the kid from the robe shop.” The boy says. 

Harry really doesn't want this boy to be in his boat but he supposes that fate hates him and had handed him too much luck for a lifetime. 

“Yes.” Harry smiles a nice fake one. 

“And you are the girl that was talking about Denise-try that Muggle teeth thing.” 

“Dentistry.” Hermione corrects. “And I have a name. I'll have you know it’s Hermione.” 

“Right.” The boy huffs. “And I suppose that it is nice to see you again, Neville.” He doesn't sound like he is pleased to meet him again. Last I heard they had you diagnosed as a squib.”

“I’m not a squib.” Neville defends. 

“What's a squib?” Hermione asks so Harry doesn't have to.

“A person that is born of magical parents that has no magic.” Neville glares at the boy. “I was unable to do it till my uncle shoved me out the window and my magic decided to work for once and save me.” 

“Oh,” Hermione remarks. 

“How do you know each other?” Harry asks because this blond doesn’t seem to be the type that Neville would willingly hang out with. 

“My family and his are pureblood houses. Even if his is a bunch of blood traitors, our relatives still go to some of the same charity events.” 

Neville frowns deeply. “There is nothing wrong with talking and being friends with Muggle-borns, Malfoy.”

Harry knows at least what Muggles and Muggles borns are, and he knows enough to know that this Malfoy is not someone that he wants to be friends with.

“Neville’s right, my mother was Muggleborn.” Harry stares Malfoy down. “And since she died protecting me and Hermione is my friend I would recommend that you watch what you are saying.

“I don’t have to watch what I say. Who do you think you are anyway?” The blond is sitting up rigidly.

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” He greets, liking the way that those gray eyes are popping out of his head. “And I ama Half-blood and proud of it and if you're rude, I will toss you out of the boat.” 

“Toss me?” The boy sputters. “Harry Potter…?” 

“Yes, and right over the side.” Harry makes the motion. “You will have to swim the rest of the way.”

The blond looks at the water and then presses his lips very tightly together. “You are not what I was expecting.” He finally says. 

“Yes well, I get that a lot. Tom keeps telling me that I have to be my own person and I believe he is correct. That comes with defying everyone's expectations of me.” 

Tom makes a choking sound next to him, and he ignores the shadow. 

“Is that why you wore the purse?” Hermione asked looking again at the pink bag. “Because that defied my predictions.” 

“No, I just stole it from my Aunt.” Harry shrugs at their horrified faces. “She didn’t want to let me go to Hogwarts you see. She is scared of Wizards and of magic. What with the Dark Lord creeping on her family and our house being haunted. So I had to make a grand breakout to head off to school. I suspect that she is still trying to get rid of all the snakes. I will not lie though I sort of like having a bag that I can stuff things into. Beats having so many chunky things in my pockets.” 

Tom face palms and drags his shadow hands down his face. It is actually terrifying the way it pulls his eyes downward like he is shedding his flesh. 

“I would have brought mine,” Hermione admits. “But I didn’t know if it would be proper there are so many rules and such that I don’t know if it would offend anyone.”

“You can't worry about that stuff.” Harry shakes his head. “I think its best to break a rule that is stupid than follow it.”

If he listened to every rule and worried about offending the Durselys he would have died long ago. Harry was pretty sure that his very existence was offensive to them. 

“Agreed.” Malfoy looks at him with surprising respect, though he might be just trying to salvage himself from making an enemy out of the boy who lived. Not that Harry would hate Malfoy for having bad opinions, hating people took too much energy. Hating the Dursleys was giving them too much thought. “That is why a lot of pureblood houses keep up with traditions despite the legislation against them.”

“That is because the Ministry is full of foolish and scared people,” Harry repeats what he heard Tom say. “They fear anything that they don’t understand. They label it dark, even if it really isn’t.”

“You don’t sound like you are fond of the Ministry.” Neville tilts his head.

“I am not very fond of anyone that wants to restrict my ability to make my own choices.” Harry sighs. “I don’t like being told that I have to conform to something especially if I don’t believe in it. What's the harm in breaking rules if you're not out to hurt anyone.”

Hermione grunted. “I suppose that is true, you know though that type of disregard for rules might not lend well to the principles of Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t say that I read a lot of books and can be inventive. It’s not that I would mind other houses, but I want to be with others that take their studies seriously. My classmates were so slow at my old school and don’t even get me started on how dumb my cousin was.”

Neville snorted. “Well, perhaps the hat will be merciful to you then.” 

Tom was glaring at Neville and Harry wondered if that was because jinxes existed in the magical world as well as in the Muggle one. 

Harry tuned out most of the explanation about the houses and the sorting, as Tom had lectured him to oblivion about how it was important to make relations in his house. The sorting goes well, at least he thinks that it does. Hermione gets into Gryffindor and so does Neville. The Malfoy boy gets sorted into Slytherin and the redhead that was with the army of redheads in the train station was sorted also into Gryffindor. 

He wonders if it would be nice to be sorted into the house of lions just so that he can be with the two that he met on the train. He watches as nearly all are sorted. He plays with his robe feeling as though everyone that has no idea who he is are now making guesses. The staff table is looking particularly interested in him. There is one particular man that is scowling at him. He has longer black hair that might be greasy and his eyes are harsh. The look reminds him of his Aunt when she is staring down the neighbor girl that had a baby at 16. He looks right back and doesn't look away when the other realizes that he is staring at him. Harry even smiles slightly at him as he pretends to be interested in something else. 

When his name is called he feels as if the whole world is quiet, all the sound has been sucked out of the room. He hears breathing he swears as he makes his way onto the stool. He watches Tom following him up. He looks like he is hoping for something and Harry doesn’t really want to disappoint him. Which is such a stupid thought that he wants to squish that it has entered his brain. But Tom has always been there for him. If there is anyone that is a constant it’s Tom. He wonders if Tom went here, and where he was sorted. There is so little he knows about him. Tom has a way of answering a question but then not answering a question. 

He sits on the stool and the hat is placed on his head. He shuts his eyes and he can hear the voice of the sorting hat it's almost like it is inside of his head. There is a slight pressure there and he can feel every movement of the thing.

````What an interesting mind.````` 

‘Uh… Thank you.’ Harry thinks. 

````No problem child. Now let's see. Lots of bravery in you isn’t there, and a yes quite bright aren't you? Yes, you could make a fine little eagle but you have a knack for trouble... ````` 

Harry let himself smile a little bit. ‘So what house would be good for me? I really liked the idea of being Ravenclaw.’ 

Suddenly the hat started to laugh. It shifts the brim up and down. It just started to laugh so loud that Harry was sure that other people could hear it. He risked opening his eyes and there are people staring even harder than before at them. Some look horrified as if the hat in its hundreds of years of existence had never laughed before. It literally feels like the thing may rip a seem with the loud laughter that it is bellowing out. It eventually brings itself down to soft cackles. 

````My, my you are far braver than I ever thought possible. Making friends with such a creature that others would run far away from, even letting him live with you. And how you have softened dear old Tom out. I know the house for you. Give him my regards and tell him Slytherin was really the right choice for him, he much like you would have made a poor Ravenclaw at second glance.````

“Gryffindor!” The hat screams. 

Harry jumps down from the chair. There are a lot of people clapping. He can’t be too disappointed that he is going to be with Neville and Hermione. He sits and Tom drifts closer to him. Holding slightly against him. He can almost feel the fingers that are resting on his shoulder. 

_‘congratulations.’_

Tom doesn’t sound like he means that. He is watching the other children around Harry with weary eyes. 

“Thanks,” Harry tells him quietly, hopeful that no one hears him. 

~/*\~

Voldemort does not like where Harry has landed. He supposed that he should have been muttering more house names than just not Hufflepuff. Gryffindor is just as bad as the friendly house. He is in a house for the reckless, and daring. Voldemort has faced off against lots of people that could be considered those words and none of them have lasted that long. It makes him a little uneasy because the last thing that he needs is Harry running headfirst into trouble. That and Severus is looking like he has it out for Harry of all the times to have a loyal follower. 

He watches Harry eat well for the first time in years and appeases himself with that. He remembers when he had first come to Hogwarts, he had politely stuffed himself. He had never had eaten enough at the orphanage and only dreamed of such a verity. He tries to ignore how the redhead that is sitting across from him is inhaling chicken legs. He wonders in disgust if he will remember to cough up the bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You for reading and for all the support that this fic has gotten, seriously you people are amazing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extras for the chapter are shown as ------*------

_Blood Status and Servants_

Being back in the castle is serial. Voldemort had never really had a home that he could call his own. If he was going to dare to think it, the Slytherin common room felt like it could be close to one. His dorm room had been his own space, where he could be away from everyone that annoyed him. He has always preferred to be alone. Perhaps in his very very early years, he wanted more out of life than that, perhaps something as trivial as friends, but that time had long passed. 

He has not been in Gryffindor tower in a long time, it has not changed all that much if he was going, to be honest, the one portrait is missing but that is about it. In his youth, he had explored every room, every crack, and nook in the castle. But even with the warm glow to the common room, he finds that it is far too red for his taste and the gold too bold. He misses the nicer softer tones of silver and green. 

Harry is practically ambushed by all the students all wanting to talk to him, all bombarding him with questions of _that night_. Needless to say, Harry was not very pleased with it, and hastily retreated with a comment about how rude it was to ask about such a horrible experience. 

Neville was good enough to follow him up the twisted staircase. 

“It was wrong of them to ask you to see your scar.” Neville sets up his bed next to Harry.

“It’s just bloody annoying.” Harry sighs, “Probably acted a bit harshly, but I don’t even remember it. And the little bits that I dream about are not something that I ever want to revisit.”

Tom jr. The snake takes a resting place on the pillow next to where Harry has plopped himself. Voldemort contemplates trying to be comforting, but then decides ultimately against it, because Harry has Neville right now and it is best that he solidifies connections… er, friends. Even if Voldemort is not completely thrilled with the first recruits, that Granger girl is going to annoy him. Mudbloods probably always will. 

“I am sure that they will get over the newness of you, and settle down.” Neville tries to be understanding, one can tell that he has little experience with the sort of thing, but at least he is trying to be optimistic. Voldemort doesn’t think that they will settle down. No Harry was a child now, but as he grew up there were for sure to be people that took interest in him for even more reasons. Marriage to a famous wizard, that was an heir to a large fortune, what better way to become established? 

Voldemort had at one time thought about marrying into an influential family, but pretending to be interested in females was such an annoying task. They rambled on and on about nothing, easy to manipulate but high maintenance. Simply put it had not been worth the effort, but girls would for sure try to woo Harry. 

“I hope so.” Harry agrees. “Because if this continues on it's going to be a long few years here.” 

Voldemort can already attest to that.

Harry doesn’t have much to set up, but he does organize all his things, with the skill someone would expect of someone that hasn’t had much space to store things. Harry makes everything compact and tightly put together. He has room for a lot more books and he seems to note this with a smile. 

Two other boys are to be in this room and Voldemort can guess which ones will come considering that there are not many male first years. He doesn’t like his chances. Eventually, the others came up out of the woodwork. Dean Thomas was sorted a bit after Harry and that Red-head from the train station. Voldemort had not been paying much attention. 

The red-head introduces himself as a Wheasly and now that Voldemort knows he feels very stupid for not noticing the resemblance to one of his former classmates. It is like hell has spat him back up, as the boy seems just as stubborn and hard-headed, he even has those horrible freckles. 

The boys get over rooming with Harry quickly, if for the sole fact that they want to be on good terms, and hopefully friends. They talk a bit over Neville and they both seem a little caught off guard when they see the garter snake hissing happily near Harry. 

The thing is already complaining about being cold and wanting to cozy with him. Harry, of course, is delighted that it likes him. Ron decides that since they are talking about pets that he will bring out his and the second that Voldemort sees it, he knows. 

He knows….

Oh god does he know. 

The boy has a full-grown man on his bed, his lap, and seems to like the rat even though he agrees that even Neville’s toad would be better. Said Toad seems to know something is off about the rat the second that Neville lets the thing try to get close to it. Trevor puffs up and lets out his signature high pitched croaks. Harry’s Tom Jr. Hisses now a bit on guard because it too can tell that the thing is not normal.

The boys, of course, are none the wiser and ‘Scabbers’ climbs up more onto Ron for protection, rubbing his face against the boys. 

And Voldemort wants to vomit. He really does, he can't though. The only thing that he can do is make the sounds. Just when he thought that there was nothing that could gross him out, or make him uncomfortable… This is sprung on him.

It is probably because he has become close to Harry that the idea of that… bothers him greatly. 

Harry looks very concerned at him and everyone else just thinks that he is worried about his little snake.

He eventually gets the urge under control, he wonders if Wormtail can feel any of the magic that he is giving off. Animagus can be a little more aware of magic, in their animal forms. And he hopes that Peter can feel him and his rage. He borrowed magic to make his mark burn that rat. It lets out a distressed squeak and Ron has to put him in the carrier. 

Voldemort still keeps it up for a few more minutes, enough to considerably creep all the other boys besides Harry out. They now think that their room might have a darker entity because all their pets had reacted poorly. 

And Harry knows better. He is giving him a look that says that they will be having words later. But Voldemort doesn't have to explain himself. If he doesn’t drop that rat out the tower window, feed it to Hedwig, or force-feed it rat poison then he will be using Peter for a few errands that Harry does not need to know about. 

~/*\~

It is late by the time that Harry has drawn his curtains and cast a muffling spell so they can talk freely. He has a lot of questions for Tom, because well he has not been able to talk to him the whole day, not really just before they boarded. 

He has questions from how old Tom was when he had been at Hogwarts. Tom needed to explain first though more about why he was scaring the pets and why exactly he hates Dumbledore. 

“You're going about scaring animals, and people again?” Harry starts tactfully. “You said that we couldn’t cause too much trouble or it would attract Dumbledore. You do realize that traumatizing my roommates may count as that.” 

“There is something off about the rat.” Is all the information that he will give. Harry can tell by his very clear cut voice. “And as long as we don’t speak in the open, or you don’t speak to Tom Jr. in the open in parseltongue I see very low risk.”

“Tom Jr,” Harry smirks raising an eyebrow.

“I am Tom.” He growls slightly. “I like snakes but It doesn’t get my name.” 

Said snake flicks its tongue out at him. Harry almost laughs at the interaction. “I messed up and needed a way to cover it. It's hard not being able to talk to you openly.” 

This makes Tom huff. “I can still talk to you, as no one can hear me.” 

“But I can’t answer.” Harry rolls his eyes. “I feel like this will get old fast. You can comment all you want, and I have to listen to it without much change in facial expression. That was very rude of you to say that about Hermione by the way. She can’t help her teeth.” 

“She can fix them with magic, and would you rather that I remain silent.” Tom sounds annoyed, “Because I should shut up right now and you can go to sleep.” 

“No.” Harry doesn’t want him to ignore him, he prefers Tom’s annoying comments to the times that the other out of spite will not answer him. “I just wish you would be nicer towards her, and those that I probably will be spending a lot of time with.”

“I am not nice, Harry.” Tom sighs and his foggy appearance shifts. “I am actually really far from it.” 

“The hat was laughing because it thought it was brave that I was friends with you.” Harry is watching Tom for hints at how he is feeling by looking into those burning red eyes. They flicker a little. “I know that you were not the best person and probably were on the wrong side of the war, but I don’t think it is brave to be friends with you. I don’t really think it makes me a good person either, I just think it makes me human. I am glad we're friends and that we were both considered for Ravenclaw. It made me happy to know a bit more about you, and even if you don’t want to admit it you are kind sometimes.” 

“Harry…” Tom hesitates, his human-looking hands reach for him, and for once there is more of a face.He then draws back, as if realizing what he is doing. “You don’t even know me.” 

“That's because you answer questions in that roundabout way of yours. It’s like you are scared to be close. You know that we can’t be apart more than a hundred yards or whatever so it’s just in the best interest for us to be honest at least with one another.” He pauses, “If everything was to go to hell and back, we have each other right? We survived my Aunt and Uncle because of that.” He adds on. 

“I was a student here, I was Slytherin which was in constant house rivalry with Gryffindor. While I was here I was one of the brightest students there was.” He sounds proud of himself. “I was well-liked by the staff, but not by one particular man.” 

The bitterness has seeped back into his tone.

“It was Dumbledore right?” Harry easily is able to pick up by that tone who he is in reference to.”

“Yes, Dumbledore was my Magical Guardian as well, he didn’t particularly like me. I suppose that I ruined our first meeting, so all he would ever see was that first impression of me.” 

“Did he leave you with bad relatives too, you called him negligent?” Harry presses, because Tom is in the sharing mood, and perhaps Harry has placed him there. “I need to know more about him, I have reason not to trust or like him, but it's safer if I know anything that he could do to me for talking with you.” 

Tom looks a bit torn whether he should answer that. 

“Are you scared of him, and should I be scared of him?” Harry asks. He knows for now that he is safe, but that doesn’t stop his heart from picking up slightly. He didn’t like the way that the old man was looking at him during dinner. He seemed really pleased with his house placement. 

“I think he would find a way to dispel me or trap me.” Tom evenly says. “I don’t know what that would mean for myself or you, remember our souls are interwoven. He hated me and he is treating you much the same, for what end I can not imagine. Perhaps he wishes to gain your trust.” 

“So you think he knows for sure that I was being abused?” Harry has a very unsettling feeling in his gut. 

“I know so. He sent Hagrid to meet you at Gringotts to scare you away from Slytherin house and Dark Magic. He has limited your spending so that you are at least reliant on him in some way. And perhaps he believes that you will be vulnerable to manipulation if he seemed like he was taking you away from all that.” Tom gives his reasoning in that very calculating way of his like he has been dwelling and thinking hard on it. 

“I really hope that this is some fucked up misunderstanding, or he has been planning this for a very long time. I mean what can he get from me other than a nice name to associate with.”

Tom frowns at his language. 

“You are the one that vanquished the Dark Lord, as the savior of the wizarding world that name has power.”

Harry feels disgusted. He really tried not to hate others, but if this was a plot that was 11 years in the making then Harry has every right to be extremely angry and every reason to be cautious. 

“But then why would he leave you?” Harry asked. “Were you someone that was important.” 

Tom starts to pace along the very little floorboard space that the curtains allow, without disturbing them. He seems to come to a conclusion and by his face it is not a great one. “It is possible. I came from an ancient line.”

“Are you a pureblood?” Harry can not help but ask. It would have explained the long, overly long talk that they had about blood when they had started their wizarding journey. 

“No, I am a Halfblood like you.” Tom smiles slightly but it's not his nice one, it's more of a grimace.

“Did you grow up even a little with your parents?” Harry asks him, he has asked before but Tom had conveniently not answered that. He told Harry that families were overrated and they didn’t need one. 

“No, I grew up in an orphanage in London.” He sounds like he hates the place, and Harry can’t say that he would have liked to grow up in some sort of facility, but he wonders if it would be better to at least have been around other children. To make friends would have been nice.

But Tom’s form is becoming spikey tufts of shadow so it must have been a horrible place. He is very upset, perhaps reliving or thinking of the place. Tom must have been neglected and abused just as Harry was, providing him with understanding that he is sure that no one else that he has met yet would really be able to replicate. 

“They don’t run those sorts of places anymore.” Harry tries to at least comfort the shadow with that. 

It only works slightly as the pacing has picked up and as he watches the near franticness of the steps. The realization hits him that Tom might be older than he thought. It would explain why he was so set in his ways. 

“I grew up during the Second World War; it was not a very good time to be alive, it was a depression. They couldn’t afford to take care of us as well as they should have. The place was cold during the winter, and unbearably hot in the summer. Staff ran the place on a tight ship, almost military-like. They thought I was abnormal because things happened around me. I was sent back every summer, much like I think Dumbledore plans for you.”

There was an odd feeling running through him. He had dreams of an old worn down place and a boy crying. He looked at Tom and he could make out a slight curve to the features, hidden under the smoke. He possibly could have imagined it.

“I am sorry,” Harry says honestly, because if his dreams were brought on because of his connection with Tom, then he knows what a young Tom felt growing up there, cold and alone. For all of the flaws that Harry could find in his life. He had never been alone. He has Tom as a friend and almost a parent-like figure. 

“Whatever for?” Tom sounds offended. 

“That you had to keep going back. I for one am going to find a way to have funds so that we don’t have to go back to them.” He is filled with determination, unlike that of what he has ever truly felt before.

Tom smiles at his proclamation. “If I am able to gather some artifacts, I may be able to make a physical form. If I am able to do that, we will never have to do or go where we didn’t want to.” 

“It’s possible to come back from death.” Harry dares not to sound too hopeful. 

“Not many can, Harry don’t take this the wrong way. Your parents can not come back, no matter what someone offers you or tells you. I cursed myself to this existence by playing with fire, and not wanting to die. Death scares me, Harry…” 

“I know it scares me too.” He agrees and wonders why his first day that had started so well had to end on such a depressing note.

“As long as I live, I will make sure that it doesn’t come for you.” Tom makes his own proclamation of the evening and Harry believes him. “Now it is best that you rest, tomorrow will be a very long day.” 

Harry sighs deeply, taking off his glasses and placing them on the small nightstand. He closes his eyes and does his best to sleep in a new and unfamiliar place. He might have hated the cupboard in many ways, but oddly enough had been a tight space that he felt relatively safe in. Tom would be there though, and that was at least a comforting feeling. 

~/*\~

Voldemort waits until it has been long enough that he is sure that all the children in the room are asleep; he then barrows as much magic as he dares from Harry as the boy will be in a deeper sleep by his actions and have long enough to recover. He will need all the energy he can get.

Peter knows that he is here. He puts all the effort that he can into giving off a dark taint of magic. Trevor croaks softly from his place at the foot of Neville’s bed. 

“Hello, Wormtail.” Voldemort bends down and sticks his fingers through the bars of the small cage that is magically enforced. The man is cowering already. “Nothing to say to your master?” 

He doesn’t expect a response other than fear after all Rats don’t talk, and those that are in their animagus can not manage human level of speech. 

“Now Peter, I am going to ravage through that head of yours and if I see anything that would paint a poorer image of you than I already have, you are going to meet a very unfortunate end.” 

The truth of Wormtail is he is a coward, nothing less is proven by the memories that he witnesses. But he will give his servant some credit, he did secure his survival by taking his wand and hiding it. It showed that Peter just might have been the only one loyal enough to look for him. Even if the initial act was purely because of fear, and the securing of the wand was a way to hope to bargain for his life. 

“I have a task for you, and should you complete it I will not feed you to Harry’s owl.” 

The rat shivers.

“You will go to the room of requirement, and find a very important artifact for me. You will keep it hidden, safe until there is a night like this again and we can speak.”

He stands, “oh, and Petter if you ever think that Harry is pretty in any single shape or form again. I will end you regardless of your possible usefulness to me.” 

He means it with every fiber of his being.

~/*\~

Harry wakes to bright light streaming in through his curtains. He dresses in his robes, has a decent breakfast, and gets a timetable with his different classes. He is very excited to get started. It is very short-lived as most of his classes go over rules the first day then they allow for actual lessons. The second day is not much better. 

Tom was near insufferable because he is calling out who he knows to be Muggleborn and annoyed by their questions. Harry felt like some of the questions were pretty fair to ask, as he was also raised by Muggles, the only reason he knew more than them was because of Tom. 

So as soon as Transfiguration lets out, Harry ducks down a few halls so that he can be alone with Tom.

“Okay spill why you have something against Muggle-borns because I can’t take your comments any more.” 

“I was not making that many.” Tom folds his arms.

“Oh really, try one comment per every 8 minutes of class time. It’s distracting, and I really wish you wouldn’t say such things about Hermione. She is my friend.” 

“You just met her.” Tom scuffs. “And I can not help but be annoyed by her endless amount of questions. If she had been raised in our world it wouldn’t have been an issue, but because she has no idea about anything and hasn’t bothered to read up enough, she drags us all down to her level.” 

“That is just ridiculous.” Harry narrows his eyes. “Half of our grade would have had the same questions.”

“No they wouldn’t have, any Slytherin would have known better.” 

“I think I know what your problem is, you are racist.” Harry glares. 

“I beg your pardon?” Tom’s red eyes widen only to narrow to near slits. 

“You heard me, you are against anyone that is not fitting into your ideal blood type.” Harry points at his chest, even though it is mostly passing through him. “Half-Bloods or better and you have no issue.” 

“Blood Type is not a race.” Tom spits, “and Muggle-borns are a problem they have the highest risk of exposing our world. If enough Muggles knew they would eliminate us all. Mud-Muggle borns are the ones responsible for the death of hundreds of Witches and Wizards and that was when Muggles only had swords and flame.” 

“That was hundreds of years ago, the burnings, they can’t be held responsible. Yes, it is a scary thought that Muggles could want to war with us, but if that happens it will be because of a combined amount of issues. And I already pointed this out to Malfoy. I didn’t think that I would have to point it out to you, but my mother was a Muggle-born.” 

“And she was better than most.” Tom isn’t giving an inch and it's making Harry very annoyed. 

“You know I thought that we learned about grouping people by characteristics to be wrong in second grade. There was even a song about it.”

Tom’s frown deepens.

“I could sing it for you to remind you.” 

“Don’t sing whatever it is that you are about to Harry, I am not in the mood.” 

“No, I want you to remember what I am literally going to sing to you any time that you bring blood into something to describe what you don’t like about a person. If you don’t like endless questions that is fine, but I won’t hear blood status excuses from you.” 

Tom opens his mouth and Harry cuts him off with a hum.

Black or white  
that’s all right  
Brown or yellow  
are still great fellows  
Even purple and Green  
there is no reason to be mean 

“That again brings up colors not blood.” Tom looks very tired. “And I am fine with people of color.” 

“It’s the same principle. Don’t hate people for things they can’t help. Skin tone, blood status, economic status, looks extra. Because you were born in a time that would have preached those things. I am willing to continue being friends with you. But please keep in mind my mother was a muggle-born and even if I did not know her she died saving me, which makes her one hell of a person or witch no matter how you look at it.” 

“I will try to keep that in mind.” Tom doesn’t sound happy with what he has been told at all. But Harry will try to work with him on it. 

~/*\~

By the 3rd day, Voldemort has really started to have enough of the first-year curriculum. He is bored, bored out of his skull, and wishes that he had been able to flee to Romania. The nice quiet forest would save him having to listen to student gossip and brain dead Teachers attempt to teach. He had thought that Binns would have retired and died, but the truth was he only died. He was lecturing and drowning on and on. So Voldemort used up some of the magic that he stored and noped out for a few hours, coming back in time for Dinner and the realization that Snape was still staring at Harry as if he was plotting his demise. 

He would have to have a long talk with Harry about Death Eaters tonight, there was no way that they were stepping foot into a potions classroom unprepared. Not when there were so many things that could kill them only by taking a small whiff of. Voldemort didn't think Severus would risk it early into the school year, it was a one-way ticket to Azkaban with no return. But that didn't mean that Snape was not planning on making Harry's life hell. The man had a vendetta against James Potter and those that had stood with him. He also had a weird thing for Harry's mother. Snape could claim it as love as much as he wanted, but Voldemort who had never felt love, when looking in Snape's memories could understand what the man was feeling. It had been a bit more along the lines of obsession. Voldemort understood obsession well. He had those sorts of feelings over his many trophies and Horcruxes. 

Love and Obsession were not the same things, even if a person did not want to admit that. 

——— •———

There is a door that appears to those that need it. Those that seek it out in dire circumstances would always be given entry. A small rat that was missing a finger scampers across the stone floors, he pauses only a few moments to sniff the air and hide in one of the deep cracks in the wall as a cat stalks by followed by her human. He waits and his ears twitch and his nose scrunches. He slowly sticks his nose out of the hole and takes long very quick steps towards the entrance. The door opens for him, as there is no greater need for the rat in question then to survive. His master has given him a burned-in image of the item that he is looking for at the forefront of his mind. 

Peter wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear. He had not expected to ever see his master again, not in such a horrible shaky form. Even if he can not see the man, he knows the magical power all to well and the voice. It haunts many of his nightmares, along with the faces of Lilly and James. He has always been a fearful man, a weak man, a sick man. He knows it. And so he sets about the impossible task of looking through endless mounds of junk to find something that has supposedly been lost forever, all in hopes that he doesn't get killed brutally. 

Knowing his master's seeming newfound favoritism of the-boy-who-lived and the thought that Peter had of him, he doesn't like his chances. Not his fault that he had liked James not enough to die for him obviously, but enough to covet the relationship he had with lily. And Harry looks like him... 

He rubs his paws together, hoping to smell something that is familiar to his master's sent. But it has been well over 11 years since he has gotten a good feeling of his magic, the new magic used had traces of him, and traces of something else. He also doesn't know if the object in question would seem familiar to him other than in looks. It isn't going to be easy. Perhaps he was better off making a hasty retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all next time and stay safe out there!


	9. Chapter 9

_Wand Measuring._

Voldemort waited till Harry had shut the curtains and cast his muffling charm to address the growing problem that would be Severus Snape.

“Huh, I am surprised that you noticed it too, I thought that it might have just been me.” Harry shrugs.

“Of course, I noticed it is not that hard to see that look set on his face.” Voldemort had been stressing over it. He had been checking everything that Harry was going to put into his mouth since day one. Salazar knew what could be slipped into his drink. It might not even be Snape that does it. It could be the headmaster, trying to place compulsions on Harry. 

Voldemort can help to shield Harry’s mind, but it's not as strong of a defense as he would like, the best he can do is put weird thoughts at the front of his brain, like Vernon beaching himself. So far these little flashes have worked when he sees a particular pair of blue eyes looking at Harry. Voldemort can not be sure how far that old man can see into heads, but he is taking no chances. 

“I mean I brought it up to Ron and Neville, but only Neville seemed to take note. So it made me wonder if it was just Snape’s default face, you know permanent scowl and all that.” Harry smiled slightly. 

“I would agree that his face is stuck on a resting bitch face, and the only reason that Ronald can’t see past that to see malice is because his observation skills are on par with a cave crayfish. It is impossible to miss the way that his lower part of his jaw slams its way back into contact with his skull.” Voldemort taps his fingers against his arm. “It is mostly when he is looking at the Gryffindor table. It amazes me that he is allowed to teach with such blatant hate for the house of lions.”

“Maybe that is why Dumbles hired him.” Harry sits up a bit straighter, what better way to learn to hate Slytherins, than putting a Professor in that embodies the stereotype.” 

Voldemort doesn’t like the way Harry could be right about that, but he is proud that the other is not naive enough to believe that Dumbledore would do anything without an ulterior motive. It brings back Voldemort's wonder if the old man had tried to influence him because even before Voldemort himself knew, he knew who Riddle was related to and the ancient blood that ran in his veins. It was possible that he had set him up to be much like Harry, but deemed him too unpredictable and dangerous. 

“I don’t like the implications of it, but it is on par with something that he would do.” 

“Potions should be fun then.” Harry sighs. “And here I was excited about learning something. Not it's just going to be a game of trying to learn from someone that has no business teaching.” 

“Severus is very good at potions and should we have landed in Slytherin perhaps wouldn’t hate the idea of you so much.” Voldemort feels a need to point this out at the very least. “But we need to be on guard in case he does want to do more than insult you.”

“You think that he would try to do something foolish like try to kill me?” Harry blinks. “That's unexpected honestly, I mean why would Dumbbell decide that was a good idea if there was a chance of that, certainly he needs me alive for his plans whatever they are to work.” 

Voldemort thinks hard. “Perhaps to save you considering that Snape was supposedly a loyal Death Eater turned follower of the light sent to spy on Voldemort. Many still think him evil. He would make a good scapegoat changed or not.” 

“So he sets it up so Snape could try to kill me and if he tries he’ll save me best case worst case he makes me distrustful of Slytherins and sets up even more divisions among houses. Wonderful…” 

“Yes we should plan how we should present ourselves in his classroom carefully as not to tip the scale towards murder.”

“He probably will not try to do more than out me the first day then.” Harry rubs at his eye underneath his glasses.

“Probably.” Voldemort agrees. 

“So the question is how to act, perhaps a model student like I am in all other classes.” 

“I don’t think that will help you case all that much.” Voldemort shakes his head.

“It's hard to hate someone that is overly nice, polite, and kind to you. I think that is the way that I will win. I will kill him with kindness.”

“I think he will still find a way to hate you.” Voldemort pinches the smoke by his eyes, where his nose would be if he had one. “Look Severus hates and I mean hates your father on top of everything else. The man has a vendetta that would make even North and South Korea look like they had a functioning relationship.”

“I hardly see how my father's actions would apply to me. I mean I might look a bit like him according to the very few pictures that I have been able to dig up.”

“I just think he will think that you are Potter 2.0 and it will add to things.” 

“I can’t help the way that I look like him, nor can I help anything that my father might have done to taint their relationship.” 

“It's just going to be a wand measuring contest.” Voldemort sighs, “He has to do something for his dignity and he wants you to react so that he can punish you. So it can be just like his school days with the need to make himself feel superior and you not wanting to let him win. If we don’t go for that perfect student and ignore whatever it is that he says then it is just going to turn into a constant one-up situation.” 

“I am so glad that you have so much faith in me.” Harry rolls his eyes. “I won’t sink to his level.”

Voldemort breaths out a sigh of relief that turns to a cough as Harry mentions the other part of that sentence.

“I am going to rise high above his level.” 

That smile is horrible and Voldemort has a very awful feeling that Harry will not survive his first potions class. 

~/*\~

“Potter.” The name roles of the human greaseball's tongue with about as much spite as a word that only contains 6 letters can allow. 

“Here.” Harry gave his best radiant smile. 

Snape goes off onto the rules like other teachers but throws out a couple of questions towards Harry that he answers with ease. It was like he was really hoping that Harry has not opened a book all summer or something. 

He then brings up his father in front of the whole class and insults him. Tom has a look of disbelief but is already puffing up a bit so that the smoke is curling around him. 

That was it. Harry wasn’t going to take it anymore, yes he was supposed to be playing a nice and respectful student. But even if his father and this lizard lipped professor had been in arguments it had nothing to do with him.

“Just because my father knocked you on your backside a couple of times, doesn’t mean that I am like him. I would appreciate it if you would treat me with the same displeasure as all the other students in your care. There is no need to escalate it.”

“Are you really sure you want to start something with me, Mr. Potter, I can take more than the 50 points that I am taking now from your house.” 

“Well if you're going to just be horrible perhaps we can get this out of our systems, by having a dual right here and now. I challenge you to a…”

Everyone held their breaths.

“A dance-off.” 

“What?” Snape blinked; he had not expected that at all. No he looked like he was looking forward to just knocking Harry on his small but fine ass and then continuing on with his class and calling out anything that remotely bothered him the prick. 

Tom at this point is laughing hysterically at the look on Snape's face, perhaps forgetting that he really should have been upset about the current events that were about to take place. It was as if the whole world was caught up in this moment as the professor finally was able to comprehend enough of what was happening to be ferrous.

“Are you scared to have a dance-off,” Harry repeated himself. 

At this point it was as if magic that the Headmaster had appeared. “If a dual is issued I am notified and now that I find myself in a classroom full of first years I have great concerns.”

“Mr. Potter has decided that he would like to have a dance-off with me,” Snape says smoothly as if he is waiting for the Headmaster to tell him that he is off the hook but instead the old man starts shaking his head. 

“You can not be serious.”

“I would never kid about such a thing Severus, duals are always to be taken seriously, no matter the method chosen. One can not simply back out of things easily.” 

"He is an 11-year-old boy that wants to dance of all things."

"Then it should be harmless to oblige him."

The next thing Harry knew was that they were in the great hall and there was a radio being summoned. The most horrifying thing really was Harry had no idea how to dance. He had no idea why he had set this up. And when the music starts snape takes on a stance that reminds him of those bad samurai movies that Dudley would watch. 

"You will not be able to best me, Potter, not when I do what they call busting a move" and suddenly the man is spinning on his head. Hair spinning like a mop. 

The second that Harry laughs he realizes that he is away laying in his bed safely tucked in Gryffindor tower. He rubs at his face. Tom is sleeping at the edge of the bed and the wall is resting behind him. It’s weird because Tom can sleep now if he is close to Harry that is. He looks almost peaceful, like a fire that has just gone out. He reaches a handout and brushes against the smoke. Tom is really something else. Something strange and mysterious that he is just starting to learn about and understand. Each talk brings them closer and another piece to the puzzle.

~/*\~

Voldemort woke in the morning and can’t remember falling asleep or anything that he has dreamed of. Sleep is a rather weird thing when he isn’t really all that connected to anything. He feels as if he is just being pulled along and subjected to old memories. If he could learn to do such a task standing perhaps it would be a useful and safer way to pass time, then using the energy Harry has given him and just phasing out. 

He looks over at the carrier on the floor there is no sign of his follower. The food bowl and water dish are still full. Trevor puffs up from his place on Neville’s bed.

“Oh calm down you stupid amphibian, if I was going after your master it’s 11 years too late.” He stands and waits for Harry to get up. And they start their day. Defense and Potions. 

There is something off about the stuttering man that stands as the front of the room. It's not like he is hiding anything dark on him. Voldemort checks. He is just odd, jumpy, and Voldemort has a very strong feeling that the stutter is completely fake. It's just so awful and inconsistent that it has to be, and he wonders why anyone would purposely make themselves look like such an utter moron. There had to be a motivation to this, a play, however, at the moment Voldemort is not sure what it is. He warns Harry of his suspicion and at least Harry is smart enough to notice as well. 

Finally the class that was more of a joke than anything else ended and Voldemort was able to leave the room that smelt too much like garlic for his liking. 

It was then that they were to go to a class that at one point Voldemort would have liked. Yes Slughorn had been a bit annoying, but potions were a fascinating subject. But considering the danger of having one of his past best followers in close distance of Harry made him have to be wary. Peter had better get him that Diadem soon. He needed all the fragments of his soul back that he could get. 

Double potions was to be with the Slytherins that also seemed particularly interested in Harry, especially one very annoying blond that was always staring at them from across the great hall. Well staring at Harry really, Voldemort could just feel his shadows crawl with all the looks he knew were in Harry’s direction. It was irritating.

Lunch brought letters and Harry got one from that large oaf and started inviting his friends to go with him if it was okay with Hagrid of course. Neville quickly agreed to go. 

“I heard that Snape favors Slytherins,” Neville said as they made their way towards the dungeons, he seemed a little nervous. 

“Sometimes I wish someone would favor us,” Ron mutters. 

“We don’t need it.” Harry shrugged. “Who wants to win pity points, makes the cup worth nothing if they all come from someone spitting them out like a Pez dispenser.” 

“What is a Pez?” Ron blinked. 

“Muggle candy,” Harry responded with ease.

“And its candy that spits out candy?” Ron said in disbelief. “Wicked.” 

Harry didn’t bother to correct him that they were horrible little plastic things that had flavored chalk in them, or at least that was what Voldemort had heard, he had not been able to taste them. But this was coming from Dudley when he described the taste and that hippo had liked anything that was edible.

Snape started class with a roll call, and Voldemort waited, posed hand on the desk for the inevitable. 

“Ah yes,” Snape said softly. “Harry potter our new celebrity.”

Harry ready to play along gave off a radiant smile. “Hi.” He greeted ignoring the way that the man was glaring daggers at him. And took notes as his former servant started rambling about the wonders of potions and their many uses. After his little speech he rounded on Harry.

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”  
Such an odd, pointed question that wouldn’t be in 1st year’s book. He wanted to make Harry look like a fool. 

“I would assume that there would be some sort of a reaction when it initially occurred, with a few other ingredients one could make a powerful sleeping potion that is called I think Drought of the Living Death, but again there are a few other ingredients involved with that.” Harry beamed. “I read about it in the library.” 

Snape recovered quickly from his shock. “Where would you find, I asked for it, a bezoar.” 

Hermione raised her hand very pointedly from her place behind Harry and Voldemort breathed out slowly as it figured that no one besides Harry and a Mudblood would know things. 

“From a goat.” Harry shrugs, “well I guess the more pointed place would be its stomach.” 

Hermione deflated, upset that she didn’t get to answer and Voldemort could see those gears turning in Snape's head as he posed the last question. “What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?” 

Harry this time paused, his face scrunched up. 

“It's the same,” Voldemort whispered to him. “The same plant.”

Harry nods like he at least had a slight guess at that. 

“I am confused, professor I thought that they were the same plant that is in the aconite family. They are poisonous that much I know, they are pretty good at keeping pests away.” 

The face of the man is priceless. 

“I really am excited to learn about brewing” Harry continues unbothered, “are there going to be more pop quizzes like this? And are there other supplemental readings that I should look into besides the One thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi book? I only knew that last one back my Aunt has a few aconite flowers in her yard.” 

Severus looks like he has swallowed a vat full of something bitter. “Why are you all not copying this down.” And there are the scribbling and scrambling of students trying to take notes. 

The potions class could have gone worse the way that Snape moved like a large bird patrolling the pairs that he had made to work with an introductory potion to cure boils. Harry is partnered with Neville that is near white by the looks that are sent his way. 

Snape criticizes all but his little favorite that happens to be Malfoy. Harry helped Neville though to relax and had him weigh things while he crushed them. All the nasty tidbits that Snape shouted at him. Harry would respond with cheer.

“Got you, professor. I was planning to but thank you.” And Voldemort's favorite. “I’m so glad he takes our safety so seriously.” 

Whenever Snape was close enough to hear. 

~/*\~

“How could you be so cheery?” Hermione asks when they make it out of the dungeons, hers and Ron’s had turned out alright all things considered.

Harry smiled largely. “I figured that I would kill him with kindness because there is nothing that I said that was cheeky or wrong to him. He seems not to like me, and I am not going to give him the satisfaction of giving him any reason to take points or think that he has gotten to me.” 

Neville nodded, impressed. “Thank you for helping to calm me, his voice just scares me and I couldn’t concentrate.” 

“Don’t be scared of him Nev. He can’t do anything to you but take points and glare at you.” Harry smiled, patting him on the back. “There are worse things than a bad potion’s grade.”

“So do you think that Hagrid would be okay with me coming as well.” Hermione shifted holding onto her bag’s strap. "I haven't got a thing to do." 

She sounds so hopeful that Harry can not turn her away. He knows that he is imposing a little bit, but he does not want her not to feel wanted. 

“I am sure he would be glad to have more.” Harry agreed easily. “He seemed a little lonely when I met him.” Which is true. Hagrid seemed like he really wanted to be friends and even if he was planted by Dumbledore. Harry did not think that he meant to be in on anything. Hagrid didn't seem the type, not that he would really know the type. 

“Sure go trapping off into the woods to that strange man’s hut.” Draco shifted behind them. “You think you’ll be back by curfew do you?” 

“I mean if anything bad were to happen I think we could handle ourselves. Hagrid is just a big soft man that isn’t allowed to use magic.” Harry shrugs. “And if you're going to just watch us and stare at us from afar I would tell you that you should just come with us.” 

He might not have really liked the other, but the other could probably use to learn some life lessons and he probably wouldn't learn them in his house. Not that Harry was against Slytherin partially but Tom was from there, and he had ideas about how the perfect ones of them would act. Harry is not really fond of the blood thing, and maybe there would be hope if Draco learned other views. Worst case it didn't work out and Harry could at least say that he tried. 

“Come with you?” Malfoy looked baffled. 

“You want to be friends right, that is why you keep trying to find ways, even some borderline annoying, to interact with us.” Harry held out his hand. “You don’t have to try so hard. You could just hang out with us.”

Draco smiles slightly, taking his hand. He is defiantly uncertain but wants to be friends it's obvious. 

Hagrid is a little surprised as the 4 of them show up at his door. He is holding his dog back that is just barking, but the action is enough to make Draco hide behind them.

“Honestly it's just a dog.” Hermione shook her head. 

“I know that.” Draco snapped.

“He is jus’ excited.” Hagrid smiled a little hesitant at the boy. “Make ya selves at home. There is a teapot on a small stove and they all file around the small table Harry transfigured into another chair which baffles his friends. 

“Sorry to spring so many people on you Hagrid. I thought that it would just be me and Neville, but Hermione wanted to come and then Draco was worried about us so he had to come too.” As he says the names he motions on who each of them is. 

“That's okay, nice ta see yah makin' friends ‘arry.” 

The rock cakes are shapeless lumps that Malfoy dared not to try and he was the smart one. They were hard enough to break teeth. Everyone else pretended to like them enough. Tom was encouraging Harry to see if the dog could digest them. They talked about the first week and a little on Malfoys part about his summer. Harry enjoyed making references to things that no real wizard would know with Hermione, as Muggles did have some interesting things. 

There was a bit of an odd look when Hermione brought up the fact that Snape just might have hated everyone but Malfoy. Draco argued that his godfather while having favorites did have points, potions could be very deadly. While the exchange about the tone of voice, vs the message went on, Harry and Neville split the Daily Prophet. 

Interestingly enough there had been a break in the day that he had been at the bank. This seemed to interest Tom as he was leaning over his red eyes narrowing as he read over the lines. 

“It's a little interesting that the bank was attempted to be robbed the same day that we were there.” Harry folded his hands in front of him. “The goblins seem to be very adamant about security. Wonder if we passed the attempted robber?” 

“They are known for security.” Draco stopped his bickering with Hermione. “That's why my family stores things there. It's a little surprising that anyone would be able to make such an attempt.” 

Tom made a face at that, and Hargird was not meeting his eyes. He just grunted something about it all being probably coincidental. Harry could tell that no one was buying that, just by the look that was on his face. 

“He knows something about it.” Draco shook his head.

“Agreed.” Hermione nodded. 

They both looked at each other and then quickly apart as they didn’t seem like they wanted to be friends or agree with anything that the other said.

“Well looks like the year won’t be completely boring if Hagrid knows a bit about an attempted robbery it's possible that he was involved in the emptying of the vault. He does seem like the type that would take work over the summer where he could get it.” Harry strolled faster towards the castle so that they would not be caught out of bed at strange hours. 

“I think that we should mind our own business.” Draco pauses by the main entrance. “I mean whoever wanted what was in that vault probably wanted it for a no good reason. Gold is easy to steal, whatever they wanted was an object and sometimes objects can be cursed.”

“All the more reason.” Harry smiled. “If someone is plotting something dark I want to know about it. Chances are that they could be connected to Voldemort or something. Hagrid told me that he doesn’t think that the man is dead, just depowered.” 

Draco looks really pale now, Neville does as well.

“Are you sure you want to meddle with something that could be connected to you-know-who Harry.” Hermione is the braver one to actually ask him about the elephant in the room, or rather courtyard. 

“I’m destined to run into him or one of his devout followers.” Harry shrugs. “And since I am the chosen one, not by my choice it's best to just know these things. I am much safer if I can plan around things.” 

Tom again is acting strangely. He is silent and when he goes that way for a long time, nothing good can come of it. Harry doesn't know if it is because he is planning to get involved with something dangerous that Tom will no doubt have a problem with or if it is because he was once on the wrong side and fears Harry will be upset with him. 

\-----*-------

Peter felt like he was drowning in items. He has pulled out a few things that he thought might be useful to himself, his master, and that boy that he is soft on. Convincing Harry to show mercy might just be his only way out of this. So he has piled the bag he has with extra wands, and books on top of books. The boy loved them. Peter could see that the boy had a different one with him every night. He was not at all like James. Not at all. 

Finally there is a glint of a crown looking thing and it's a Diadem, but it's not the one that he is looking for. He hits his fists in frustration against the nearest stack of shit and it causes an avalanche that buries him fully. 

\----*------

Severus Snape is a practical man. He likes to think that he is good at controlling his emotions, at least for the most part. But that Potter is an enigma. Outwardly he seemed disgustingly cherry and he had flocked a lot of people to him already by that friendly seeming personality. 

The boy is not who he thought that he would be and he doesn’t know if that makes him hate the boy or if it gives him hope that he is nothing like James but looks. 

He tried to probe at his mental defenses while he was in class, but all he would get were hints of very odd and horrifying thoughts. He never wondered what Dumbledore would look like in a toga, or what Petunia would look like in a bikini, and he never wanted to see those images in his head ever again so he would be keeping out of the boy's head for now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's Back! Fudge gasps. 
> 
> I am! Dawn smiles proudly.

_Turning Point_

The days sort of blend together for Harry, flying lessons go alright now that Malfoy is not being as much of a prat. Since they are the better flyers in the year they are able to play small games of Quidditch. Ron always insists that Draco and Harry are on opposing sides, after a couple of classes that had ended in a slaughter fest. 

“You know.” Draco drawls, “I'm sort of glad that you weren’t sorted with us snakes. It means that I don’t have to compete against you for the seeker spot next year.” 

Harry snorted. “You say that now, but when I beat you to the snitch each time, you will be singing a different tune.”

“I would like to see you try Potter.” Draco scuffs. “That cup is as good as ours.” 

“Don’t count on it. And you have seen it, I win each time I go for it.” Harry chuckles at the baffled look.

“He’s got you there.” Neville agrees, shyly. 

“Well I’ll get more practice and a better broom and it will make all the difference. Talent can't compete with hard work.” Draco insists.

“Careful, you almost sounded like a Hufflepuff there.” Hermione giggled. 

Draco’s face turned a little red.

“Don’t compare him to a puff Hermione.” Ron shakes his head. “They have hands to hold onto their broom, he’s a snake and that's why he tumbles off of it during dives.”

“At least I can do a dive.” Draco defends. “You just fly in half circles looking for the Quaffle.” 

They might get into it again but Neville disrupts it with sighing deeply. “I wish I could just get off the ground safely.”

“You’re jerking your broom too much.” Harry pats him on the back. “That's why it goes up so suddenly or down so quickly.” 

It was true. Neville had a tendency to shoot upward like a cork out of a bottle and then hurl himself back towards the ground when taking off. If he was trying, really trying it always looked like his broom was some sort of bronco trying to throw him off of it. Poor Neville would probably never fly correctly, or at least not well. Luckly, he had found there were other ways to travel. Tom was particular about them learning how to apparate when Harry got older.

“Not to worry, Neville there are more important things to learn than riding a broom.” Hermione's mane puffs up with the intensity of her shaking her head. “I mean there is nothing remotely useful about flying as in comparison to things like Charms. I love the newest cleaning one that we’re learning, which makes tightening up the room very simple.”

Ron rolls his eyes. “Course you would latch onto that one.”

The blatant sexist comment goes over everyone but Harry's head.

“It is useful.” Harry admits just because he would feel awful otherwise for not taking a stand. “But I think flying is a great skill. Maybe that is what I will do for a living.” 

Tom is making a very unhappy face. He has been oddly quiet about the flying after his first few complaints about it feeling like he was being yanked which way and that when Harry pushed the boundaries of their bond. He also just might have been making faces because he wants most of Harry's attention. Harry has not failed to note the way that Tom seems to get a bit annoyed that they don’t talk as much as they used to but there is no real good way to do it. Harry can only pull himself away from the others so much. He liked having friends and he can't stay up too late because he gets tired.

“I wouldn’t call yourself a professional yet Potter.” Draco huffs. “You don’t even know all the terms yet.”

“Ah who needs to know names for things.” Harry rolls his eyes. “As long as I can do the tricks and handle the balls I fail to see how it matters if I don't call it the proper term.” 

They chat a bit longer before the next class is to start and they have to part ways. 

“Be seeing you.” Draco bows his head a bit and heads off. Harry's other friends head off in their own directions to except for Hermione.

In a way the blond reminds Harry of Tom, not that Harry would ever admit that to Tom. Draco just has that way of carrying himself that screams that he is very important and that people should listen to him. Which is how Tom appears to hold himself as well. Draco has learned that Harry doesn’t like the whole blood thing and seems to bite back when arguing with Hermione and saying something particularly insulting. Similarly to how Tom bites back when Harry brings up that he is a half-blood. 

Draco is an okay friend when it comes down to everything. He can be a bit whiny about how things aren’t always fair, or fair as in his favor, and he can be a bit suffocating with his need to cling. He has horrible taste in politics, but he has nice politeness to him, if only for the sake of Harry. He can appreciate that Draco for all the masks he seems to wear has an honesty about him. He can’t understand why Harry allows certain people to say or act the way they do to him. And in a way, it is a little refreshing to have a slightly different opinion on things. Tom might like some of the observations that Draco says as well because he doesn’t complain as much about the blond. Ron and Malfoy can not stand each other, but Draco and Hermione are starting to come around to each other. They challenge each other on their beliefs on how the wizarding world should run. And even if Draco sometimes storms off so that he can sit with Thug 1 and Thug 2 Harry can tell that he is questioning some of the things that he has been told. It’s not exactly Draco’s fault that his parents probably raised him similarly to how Tom was raised in Slytherin house. 

Nevertheless Harry does not wait to call him out on some of his bullshit and while Ron and Malfoy’s altercations are more based on an old Family rivalry he doesn’t exactly feel trapped in the middle as Harry refuses to take sides. He will give his opinion but not side against one or the other. Things have settled down, but Harry can not help but be a little weirded out by the way that his D.A.T.D.A professor is watching him. Perhaps even Snape that has not toned down his potion rain of terror seems to be wary of him. There is that fake stutter and the way that he is wandering the halls after curfew. He always is straying toward the 3rd floor, which is supposed to have some corridors that they are not supposed to go down. As Harry is often out past when he is supposed to, he can only find it suspicious. It's not like he means to be out too late, it's just get him a good book, and he will zone out somewhere reading it. Books had often been an escape for him, and in the off chance he was left alone at home he could listen to the radio. Music was something he could also be swept up by. 

Tom thinks that they should leave it alone and not antagonize the man. But Harry must admit that his curiosity is getting the best of him and he wants to know what is there. Tom is just about as thrilled about exploring it as he is about Quddich but decides that if Harry is going to be a moron that he is going to have to help save him from any danger that might be lurking. So Harry plans on going at Halloween or rather Samhain. He knows that he could try to speak to his parents on this night, but he doesn’t think that he is ready to meet them and Tom is quick to support the idea that if he is not ready that he should not push himself. His parents' death and morning gives him a reason not to be at the feast. He has a snappy comeback about not particularly enjoying the night that his parents were killed on his tongue for any that would hear him. 

Perhaps he should feel bad about using them as an excuse. He should feel more about their deaths, he wants to. He can see the way that Mcgunigal looks at him sometimes and the way that Hagrid does, and can not help but feel that he is not missing them the way that he should. It's not his fault that he did not know them, nor can remember much other than them trying to protect him that night. But he feels like it's almost his fault that they are dead, that they died because of him. No amount of Tom telling him otherwise will change his mind. It is how it is. 

Harry knows that maybe the reason that he misses them sometimes more than others is because he has never truly had a family. When he hears about Hermione's, Ron’s, and even Draco’s all he can picture is what he does not have because of the unfortunate date of his birth and his parents fighting in a war that everyone seems to want to pretend never happened. He knows that it is selfish but he wished that they never fought, that they hid better because then they would be with him. 

He knows he is even jealous of the parties it sounds like Malfoy’s parents throw every year, and even if they are small in comparison at least Ron has people to spend them with. Harry wouldn’t have minded Handydown robes if he knew they came from someone he respected and loved him. Yes, they would not be as nice as the robes that he is wearing now, but they would have been fitted with love. And love is something that Harry wants to feel. Well, feel more. Since Hogwarts, he has been absorbing any kind of good feeling he can get his hands on. 

He knows the closest thing he has is his friends, and Tom, though the ghost would never admit it. It should be enough, but sometimes he can not help but feel Hermione's hugs and melt into them. All he can think is that he has never known this kind of positive touch, a simple hug and he feels warm, but is reminded that it's not something he should strive for. Should not crave. Should not want more than anything that compassionate love. It should have been granted. He should have felt it from others, especially people that were his own blood before this. He feels her grab onto his arm tugging him to the library and he wonders, he wonders if this is what it is like to have a sibling. The only person that he has ever had is Tom. And without him, he would have been alone. 

Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can picture the shadow-like figure looking down at him holding out fingers and wiggling them, as if to try and calm him as he was younger. He can see the care in the red that watches never blinking from the dark under the staircase. Tom can not touch him, he can not touch Tom. The only feeling that he gets from their closeness is a warmness in his scar. He never knew that he wanted more than that. He feels suddenly very sorry for the spirit that trails a good distance behind him, with a look that is poorly disguised dislike. He wonders if that was how Tom felt, he grew up alone. He had been alone until Harry had been able to take note of him. He can not talk to other people. He can hardly interact with the living world. It can’t be nice, and it probably is the feeling that Harry had felt before he befriended Tom lonely. He wonders if it would be good for the shadow to have other friends but at the same time wants to selfishly keep the other to himself both for their protection and because what Tom and he have is special. 

There has to be something about someone that shares a soul with you. He smiles as he sits at the far back table. Hermione brings out her potions textbook for them to share. He gets out parchment and quills to share. 

“This essay should not be too difficult.” Hermione smiles back at him. “I rather think that potions is a fairly simple subject when one follows directions carefully.”

“And can drown out Snape's yelling.” Harry agreed. “It's almost like he wants to distract us sometimes.” 

“He probably wouldn’t mind taking points off but I can not say that he wants another cauldron to melt.” Hermione shrugs. "Draco might be right about that at the very least."

“Perhaps, he doesn’t have to pay for it, so I don’t think he cares all that much.” Harry returns the gesture of a shrug. He doesn't bring up the fact that Hermione has mentioned that she has agreed with Malfoy about something. It would end the world. The table becomes quiet, after coming to Hogwarts, Harry has found that he doesn't like long stretches of it. It just feels wrong, unless of course, he is nose deep in a book, then it doesn't seem as bad because the written word becomes his company.

“Er Hermione.” He decides to break the silence, debating talking with Hermione about more of the harder-hitting things that rested on his mind than a simple potions essay. She was sometimes a little bossy, but she really was the most mature and knowledgeable of his friends. With the exception of Tom, but he wouldn't exactly call Tom mature about most things. His need to mutter curses was far from it.

“Yes?” She looks impatiently up from the textbook as she has been flipping to the proper section. 

“Do you think…” He starts.

She looks at him expectantly. He bits his lip and decides not to ask about the possibility of souls being tired together or the thing called soul mates that he had overheard some of the older girls talking about. Tom won’t talk to him much about anything that involves their bond and there is no good way to ask without Tom getting annoyed. They haven’t been on good terms recently it felt like so perhaps he would look into it a different time. Tom slept now so maybe it would be possible some time that he was to ask or try to read up on it. Not now though.

“Do you think you will be heading home for the holidays?” He finishes lamely. 

“I believe so.” She frowns slightly, “Are you already worried about the Christmas season Harry? It’s hardly late into October, but I suppose if one wanted to make things now would be a good time to start.”

“No.” Harry shakes his head laughing a little nervously. “I was just wondering. Do you think that it's possible to stay at the castle.” 

It's all that he wants. He has nothing else that he wants to think about, besides maybe what was on the 3rd floor. Quirrell and Snape had been hovering around it a lot. Harry isn't sure what to make of Snape's sudden appearance. He doesn't want to go home... well back. it was not like that place would ever be anything to Harry other than a prison. He is sure that if the Durslesys knew how to send him mail they would have sent a very nasty letter his way about the state he left the house in. 

“I believe so. A few of the girls in my dorm were talking about a signup sheet being passed around closer to the day. Course they called it Yule instead of Christmas. I can research the topic more if you like.” 

“That's alright.” He leans his head on his hand. “I just don’t want to even think about leaving this place.”

It's relieving to think himself absolutely free till next summer. Tom is looking at him as if to say that he could have asked him that information. He is sitting or rather attempting to at the end of the table they are sitting at.

“I have never asked, but the way that you talk about home. Well…. I suppose there is no good way to ask without being blunt. Do the people you live with not get along with you. You don't talk about them at all and when people mention family you get a funny look on your face.”

Harry actually laughs at that, really laughs even with a loud shush coming from a few people around them. “They are really horrible people.” 

She looks unnerved by his smile. 

“They really are.” His smile falters. 

She looks very concerned at him. She can read between the lines, Harry can tell by the way that it's written all over her face. “Have you tried telling anyone?” She slowly reaches her hand across the table to him and he can feel the attempted comfort much like Tom would try. But she is warm and he feels like she and Neville were his closest friends of the few he has. 

He wants to trust her. He really does.

“I told someone before.” He looked over at the library shelves. “It never went anywhere. Tom tried to help, but with that and the accidental magic they were even worse.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted to Harry’s pocket where Tom jr. usually was curled up. “I think it might be different this time.” She puffed herself up. “I can go with you even if you like.” 

Tom was moving closer to him. His long fingers are trying to rest themselves on his shoulder, he makes no move to try to persuade him differently. His eyes though hold knowledge of what Harry knows. Tom has never been a fan of pity, though sometimes Harry thinks he gets confused between worrying and caring about someone and what it meant to be pitiful to someone.

“I don’t think it would be different.” Harry folds his hands under his chin. “I am a pawn in a bigger game than even I know of. Dumbledore is my magical guardian and trust me, he knew what I was going through. He even sent My Hogwarts letters to the location. Dropped me there himself when I was a child.”

Hermione chewed on her lips, "but why would he leave you there if he knew?"

"Why indeed." Harry tilts his head. It was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? Why Dumbledore was doing most of the things he was. "Tom and I have been thinking about it a lot lately especially because he seems to stare a lot our way during feasts." 

Hermione sighs like she can't believe that Harry is talking about important things with a snake, but continues anyway. "There has to be other options, ways to pull away from him if he is going to leave you there…" She looks like her whole world has been turned upside down. "Are you sure he knows?"

Rules to Hermione were important, so were adults and structure. Dumbledore was one of the reasons that she was okay with winding up Gryffindor of all places in substitute for Ravenclaw which she had thought herself destined to end up in.

"I know it's hard to believe but sometimes Adults in authority don’t fix all the problems, sometimes they are the cause of them. He even put a lock on the funds I can withdraw from my bank vault. If I head home for a holiday I might not be able to come back, things were not well when I left."

"The snakes." Hermione's eyes widened, remembering.

"The snakes." Harry agrees.

"Don’t go back then.." She puffed herself up like a lion that Harry knew that she could be, all ready to do what needed to be done to protect her friend. “Come stay for the summer months. It's not that long and it would be fine, we have a spare bedroom."

If only things were that simple. Harry really wishes that they were. He doesn't think that Dumbledore will let any of his control slip and keeping him at the Dursleys probably has some unknown benefit. But it's nice to pretend, nicer to even think about. He had often dreamed about someone coming for him and saving him from the miserable Dursleys.

"It would be rude to intrude Hermione."

"My parents would understand." Hermione is not ready to back down. "My mother went through something similar with her father... well I think it might be similar. He was an awful man, drank himself to the point where he would hurt others." 

_It would be best to be at a wizarding house_ Tom whispers to him. _But anywhere is better than the Dursleys, if it is away from Dumbledore and his spies._

Harry can not say it out loud at the moment but he agrees with Tom's assessment of the situation. He also would love to add that he probably could do his homework at Hermiones over the summer. Vernon would probably lock his things where he wouldn't be able to use them, let alone look at them. Of course, that was if he didn't try to throw it all away or burn it. Harry had the sudden urge to hold onto his wand all of a sudden. It might have connected him somehow with Voldemort but it was still his wand it had chosen him. 

"If it's okay with them." Harry says after a brief hesitation. "If not could you possibly just stop by occasionally if it's not too far to check on me, get me out of there for a bit.”

"Of course Harry." She gets up to hug him. "You were my first and really sometimes with what Ron says to me I think besides Neville my only one."

"I think Draco likes you." Harry disagrees. "Ron is a bit harder to read about that." 

At the mention of Draco she stops hugging him as tightly.

"He is such a newt." She tells him a matter of factly. "That and he slicks his hair terribly."

"Yes." Harry agrees the room seems to lighten up a bit. "I don't think he knows when it's too much." 

~/*\~

Harry is very close to the Muggleborn girl. He can feel the way Harry trusts her more than the others. She can be bossy, a know-it-all, and almost too studious. But she seems to have upgraded herself to Harry's best friend and with the way Harry had reacted with the don't be racist song repeatedly, Tom knows there is no way to sway him on that. It's not like he has ever bought completely into blood politics either. He is just going to have to bend accordingly, as not to endanger himself by causing unnecessary friction between himself and his host. 

Yes, Voldemort knows that his time is coming, the moment that he can no longer be just Tom, that little shadow that follows Harry and is his friend. The air is changing with the complication of Harry making friends with those that he had, with people that would be more inclined to the light. Whatever was on the 3rd floor was also going to bring up questions, some of them might be uncomfortable. Harry is a smart kid. He will not stay in the dark forever because he is scared to ask the pointed question to really know who he is, or because he will be pushed there by his friend and choices. 

Things are going to get complicated soon, very soon. Voldemort has held off for as long as he can, partially because of selfishness… no mainly because of selfishness he doesn’t want Harry to hate him and having cared very little what others had thought of him. It is alarming. He is attached to Harry more than just physically, too attached really. Harry has become near everything and he is not sure how to bend his goals to fit Harry into them, but for some reason that matters to him. Just as that horrible Mudblood seems important to Harry. And having nothing to do but dwell has given him time to think that perhaps Muggleborns were fine if they were taken from Muggles early away from people that wouldn’t understand. A registry system that caught all Magic quickly, contact with Muggles lessened, better barriers, vows, and such to protect against discovery. 

Would that be fine… Not the same Pureblood driven agenda. Harry could lead with his heart than all the strays that he wanted to pick up, help them learn the dangers of Muggles… He was turning more towards Grindelwald's ideas and it made him sick. He doesn’t want to rule over Muggles, he still thinks that they are less than people that are magical. But Voldemort is not foolish enough to think that one could get rid of all Muggles. They had their uses, and their economies had direct impacts on those of Wizard kind that depended on them. 

He rubs at his face the best that he can, with misted hands. He would have to come clean, it would be better if he was the one to tell Harry. If he was the one that broke it to him slowly, and with the correct wording it could go alright. Who is he kidding it would go awful, Harry always seems to jump to the wrong conclusions when he attempts that. 

He takes the day slowly, not adding much to conversations as he tries to figure out the best way to break it to the other that he doesn’t have to worry about Voldemort, just probably one of his possible followers that he has not exactly had the ability to send the memo to not harm Harry. Speaking of followers, a small rat has made his appearance back inside of the dorms. Of course, he can not exactly talk to the other as he has to wait for Harry to sleep to barrow that much magic, the anticipation of it though is getting to him. He wants his soul shard, he figures that the more that he has the better it will be if Harry no longer wants to play host to him after the truth is revealed. 

To heal it is going to be something else entirely. He has to be remorseful. He has hardly been remorseful for anything in his life. He isn't sure how he will force himself to feel such emotion but he is going to have to. He is going to have to heal his soul if he wants to be anything other than a shadow, a shade, of a person. He wants nothing more than a body. He wants to feel again. He wants to kill the Dursleys in a manner that will not cause Harry to have any possible blame. He wants to set out again on his goals though they will bend a little to include his Harry. His living Horcrux.

Harry stays up far too late playing exploding snap with the other boys. Time seems to drag when he needs something to get done, more so then when they are in class or he is stuck observing Harry with his friends. Trevor is the only one awake at this point besides himself and Pettigrew and a quick double-check on Harry is all that he needs to slip from his place by the bedside. Tervor hops to the edge of Neville's bed to continue to watch him as if the thing could have done anything to him should he feel the need to hurt his little master. Voldemort would give the toad one thing, it had spirit.

"Do you have what I asked you to find?" He kneels down to make his monstrous appearance known. Fear is the best way in which to ensure that the rat stays in his service and doesn't get any bold ideas.

The rat shakes a little from his place under the bed. His nose twitches and he moves to the dresser climbing under it and producing a small bag. The item that he seeks is inside he can feel it. The pull of the small part of himself that is there. He takes out the shrunken diadem focusing all the magic that he can to accomplish the task. The second that he touches the gem however it falls to the floor and he is gone. 

~/*\~

Harry wakes to the distressed sound of Ron's rat. He looks around the room and he can’t see anything. He fumbles for his glasses and puts them on his face. He doesn’t see where the rat has scampered off to nor does he see the familiar figure of Tom near him. He searches with his eyes the space around him that would have been the distance that was capable though their bond and he can’t find a trace of those red eyes. There is no smoke-like form. He squints to try and see any red eyes, that was always his last hope to find the other if he didn't see him. But there's still nothing. It is as if he is 7 again and Tom has carved the words into the wall. He is gone, just gone and he can’t feel him. He touches his scar, it feels cold to the touch. He lays back down and blinks at the canopy. He doesn’t know how, but it feels different than the last time. 

~/*\~

Darkness greets him. Darkness that is all-encompassing. It is like he has entered a place that there is no light, he can not see himself, he can not even really feel himself. He stretches as much as he can trying to feel around himself. There is nothing that he can reach either. He tries to take breaths mentally. 'Remain calm' he commands himself. It will not help to panic, just waste precious magical energy.

The darkness seems to shift around him like it is a large snake, coiling tightly against him. There is something almost cold drawing his eyes towards it as if it is a cold breeze. 

**Look at you.** It speaks and there is a small fragment of light that shows in the monserus head. **_so weak._ **

The cold and pressure increases all around him.

 **Another shard-like me, twisted, and broken. But unlike me you are worthless.** The darkness hisses and the light is buried under its coils.

it is times like these that he wishes that he had his wand. He tries to distance himself as much as possible from the thing, but there is nowhere to go.

"You are a fragment of me." Voldemort confronts it. "You are a shard of mine, you will obey me."

 **Obey you?** The shard laughs a laugh that is monstrous to even his own ears. **You are nothing. You have become nothing. You do not deserve the title host.** **_NO_ ** **You ripped yourself into 6 little pieces.**

The deeper shadows around the head mashed its teeth together with the words. **Perhaps you should obey me and remember who you are!**

The pressure is sickening, crushing, and even though he does not have to breathe the sensation is much like being suffocated. There are memories flooding him of all the horrible things that he has ever done and then it compares that to the memories of Harry, how foolish it tries to portray him. But it's not glorious anymore to him. It's sickening, and he can see nothing but red. Red seeping from his hands to the floor, pooling, and forming a never-ending river at his feet. 

He had sold his soul for power, for glory, and respect. All that he had gotten was pain and a world that feared and hated him. He has been blind. He grips at the small shard that is him. That tiny small shard that is all that is left of him. Voldemort is a cursed name. _A Damned Name._

**I should take that shard of yours and consume it, consume the part that is far too close to a silly little boy.**

Its voice is crushing what is left of his head, the pain is indescribable. Burning like he was under his own curse again because it was rebounded.

“You will not harm Harry.” He manages, clutching his head with his one hand, somehow finding the courage perhaps to face such a thing. 

Hoarse laughter. **Attachment, Love perhaps even? Nothing but weaknesses to be exploited. You have forgotten, and because of that, I'm more Voldemort than you are.**

He looks at the creature, monster before him. "Your right you are more Voldemort than I am."

For some reason that is reassuring. It doesn’t matter what he is anymore; a small fragment of a monster or a fallen monster that is starting to see the light of just how far gone he had become. It is because of Harry, that small shard in him, has allowed him to feel important, cared for, and perhaps even loved. Its a gift and a curse, but he would choose Harry over lonelyness

Tom stands tall. “Care might be a weakness but it's one we needed a long time ago.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!

_The 3 Headed conflict on All Hallows Eve_

The darkness crashes against him, he fights drowning in memories, and ambitions. It's a battle of wills and Tom is not going to lose. He can't lose, he can see the plans that the thing has for Harry if it can get out. He will tear him apart for a body, a chance at possession even for a little bit. He will destroy Harry's magical core, force him to do unspeakable acts to bring about an actual more permanent vessel. It's only three percent of his soul, and he is three percent total with the amount that he has in Harry. Even less than that alone. It keeps trying to make that known to him. 

As if that somehow made him better than he was. 

It truly is something evil, twisted, and dark. He had become something inhuman on the quest for immortality. Something that he can not help but hate. He feels drained. He is losing. The monster that was him is winning. 

The small fragment of his soul shifts, and vibrates in his chest, worse than when Harry tried to pull outside their range, worse pain than when he had first been killed. Finally, it comes down to it. In his final moments, Tom can regret making it, regret splitting his soul more than ever, and regret the heinous act that had made this abomination of corrupted magic. The madness that it gives off is almost poisonous and he fears that without Harry that he never would have had any clarity to the actions that he has done. 

It is at that moment, the vibration stops, the pain dies down, and the darkness lightens. 

**You are changed by him, don't you understand? It's not your own feelings you feel, it's some of his.**

He doesn't care, he continues to think of the needless death and the horror of his actions. He thinks about the blood that he has spilled, Muggle, Halfblood, and even Pureblood alike. The things that he was willing to do for power. How his name was supposed to mean something, he was to be a revolutionary, bring change, and some traditions back. He thinks about how it became. How it had boiled down into violence, senseless violence when there were better options, lasting options. It might not have been as quick, but it would have been better than what his message had become. 

The blackness retreats from around him. He smiles slightly, feeling a small bit of himself click back into place. A slightly bigger light in the center of his chest. 

The ground under him feels like a godsend, magical even. The coolness of the floor feels great upon his head. He opens his eyes and finds himself on the floor of somewhere unfamiliar, not Gryffindor tower, the sun is just starting to rise and shine through the opening of some larger windows, panicked he looks up to see curtains, thick ones. They are white and stem from high above him on little rings to pull them closed and open. 

The medical ward. There is a sudden chill that overtakes him, cold awful worry. He can only partially hate that he can feel that way about Harry. 

He gets up quickly and finds that he doesn't pass through the bedrail while he grips it. He can touch things, well more so than before it seemed without expending as much energy. He doesn't have time to marvel at what possibilities this offers for him, Harry is his main worry, as he knows that whatever happened when he was fighting his former self, has affected Harry. 

Which as nice as this new sensation was, it was not necessarily something that he wanted to put Harry through. He doesn't know what happens to him if Harry dies, and he doesn't know where he would be without Harry. Funny how that worked. Harrys good core, soul, and personality poisoning the small part of him left into changing... and it seemed he poisoned the other as well. 

He moves closer, to the boy. He seems to be having a fitful sleep. He brushes his fingers against the scar, it's warm as it always is, there is a spark of magic that seems to follow its way up his finger. He can touch the other, physically cress his head, and feel the warmth that can not be natural. Harry has a fever that he is certain, the way he shivers and takes deep breaths even in sleep. Harry opens those green eyes, as he keeps his hand over him. He doesn't know if he is helping or hindering.

There's a small smile on his face. _Tom_ He whispers as if not believing that he is there, hisses it. In the language that only they can share. 

_Yes, Harry I am here._ He hisses softly back, watching carefully around them for signs of the Healer coming back. There however isn't one in an obvious spot to be listening in. 

_You promised not to leave again..._ Harry shakes his head. 

_And I won't._ He repeats his promise. _I can't be with you every moment Harry, but I won't go away not unless you want me to._

Harry shuts his eyes again, nodding as if he understands that. Tom doubts that he will even remember it. Tom doesn't know if it's healthy for him to disappear anymore. Nor if he can if Harry ever deems it. He doesn't even know if he would be able to let the other go. He feels like Harry should be his, is his. They are bound together after all. He had marked him as his equal if the prophecy was to be any what believed. If there was something to defeat Voldemort, the darker part of himself then it would be Harry. Harry had killed the idea of Voldemort already, or at least the version that had been stupid enough to try and split his soul into 7 pieces. He had morphed him into something new. 

Something with a very nameable weakness...

~/*\~

There are muffled voices when he opens his eyes, Tom is in the corner of his vision posed like a silent guardian at his bedside. His shadowy form is almost more human, the hand on him he can slightly feel now cold, and no longer claws. Hands, like a real person and a small amount of pressure, is comforting. He would have leaned a little into that, but it's not like he can with Neville's pale face peering at him and Ron's smudged one. Even if he still feels really tired and his head hurts a bit, he can not help but be happy.

"You're awake Harry gave us a real scare," Ron says far too loudly, putting the books down by his bed. "Your scar was bleeding a little." 

"Yeah, you were moaning and crying something awful." Neville pipes up. "We thought you were having a fit or something or had concussed yourself."

Harry can not help but be embarrassed. He had not meant to make things into a big mess, he just felt really sick sometime later into the evening. Strangely enough, it had happened only shortly after Tom seemed to have disappeared.

"I went to get Mcgonagall," Ron says rather proudly. "She brought you here straight away, wouldn't let us come though." The redhead's smile vanishes. 

Harry smiles even though his head is pounding. "Thanks, for helping." 

"What are friends for!" Ron exclaimed. 

Harry winced at the pitch of his voice.

"What did I say about crowding the bed." An older woman looks sharply between the two of his visitors. "And volume." 

"Sorry." Nevile turns pink, even though it is hardly Neville at fault. 

"Yeah sorry." Ron mumbles. 

"Now Mr. Potter will be needing his rest. It was good of you to bring him his work." The healer started to try and shoo them away. 

His friends looked at him sullenly. 

"See you later Harry." Neville smiles as if promising that they will play snap when he gets well. 

Once they leave the healer starts going over him with her wand. Madam Pomfrey can't tell Harry why exactly he was hit so fast and strong with a fever, that had been powerful enough to try and resist her best droughts but she was glad that he was feeling better. She promised that she would only keep him the rest of the day if it stayed down. The full recommended 24 hours without fever was her plan. She brushed off his worry about his scar bleeding as he hit his head as he got out of bed dizzy. Tom doesn't look convinced that this is the case. Thankfully this did let him miss and receive an excuse not to be in Snape's class. 

He worked on most of his make-up work and with Tom's help, it really didn't take long at all. Tom seemed a lot more friendly and less grumpy for some reason. Not that Harry was going to complain but it was a little weird. When he was released he was free for the rest of the weekend. He climbed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, more tired than he usually was. Something about doing nothing seemed to drain him. 

"Harry we should probably talk," Tom said as he drew the curtains closed and placed his muffling spells up so that he won't have to hear anything like Ron's rat screeching. 

"Is it important or can it wait till morning?" Harry yawns softly. 

"Perhaps it can wait..." Tom shifts uneasily. 

"Then we should talk about it now." Harry props himself up. "Your shadows constrict when you are worried about something."

It was true like people often did when they were insecure and hunched in on themselves to make themselves smaller, Tom seemed to do the same with his shadows. They always were more fluffy and wispy when he was calm and they sharpened when angry. Give Tom something that he was worried about and he shrunk. 

Tom lets out a bitter laugh. "I am not sure how to start or how to phrase it." 

"Yet you have been planning to tell me for a while." Harry can feel it. What he has to say is probably why they had been drifting apart recently or as far apart as a soul bond would allow. 

"Sometimes I have to remind myself how observant you are." Tom doesn't seem upset with his assessment. 

"I learned from the best paranoid individual I know." 

"Living with your relatives anything was possible, it wasn't just paranoia." Tom glares at him.

Harry sighed, "I am still working on making sure we don't have to go back. Staying with Hermione wouldn't be too awful. She's a really good friend."

"You seem connected with her," Tom says after a pause. 

"She's like the sibling that I never had, a good one. My cousin Dudley doesn't count."

"He counts more as a hippo than a person." Tom seems a little relieved. 

Harry laughs "More like an elephant, I don't know if they make uniforms for smelts much bigger." 

They are able to joke again, and Harry feels lighter by the simple action. It is one of the reasons that he misses Tom when he gets oddly quiet or when they would argue about small things. 

"But elephants are bright, Harry." Tom smiles, and then as quickly as it was there it was gone. I think I am to blame for your fever. I think I used up a bit more of your magic than was actually healthy."

Harry hadn't expected that. "What do you mean?"

"You know how our souls are connected, your magic is what allows for me to be corporal. I need more magic to do certain tasks. As you are young your magic core is still developing, and so I have never taken much of it other than to exist. To do so would certainly cause issues not that I am a healer and know all the possible complications."

"I'm surprised that you admitted that there was something that you didn't know. You don't do that very often." Harry tries to help the darkening mood. 

Tom does not smile. In fact, he seems to be taking this very seriously. "Last night I may have borrowed a little more than I meant to."

"That's why you weren't there when I woke up. I thought you had done that thing where you disappear for a bit by overdoing it." Harry shakes his head. "Not that I mind you using magic if you don't drain me so to speak, but what was it that you needed to do that would risk it?"

Harry can't help but wish the other would have included him in that knowledge. 

"I wanted to mend part of my soul." Tom shifts, so that his eyes are no longer looking at him. "Harry, remember when I told you that I had cursed myself to this existence and that there were ways to come back, but your parents would not have done them."

"Yes." Harry has suddenly a very, very bad feeling. 

"I split my soul into five pieces. It was a very dark and foolish thing to do. I had managed to track a small piece of it down and had attempted to reabsorb it. Needless to say, it did not go well." 

Harry stares long and hard at the other. "If you were to get those pieces, what would it do for you?"

Tom doesn't look away from his gaze now. "I would be whole again. I could leave you in peace I would imagine. Perhaps get a body back. I am not certain. I do know that the more of my soul that I have the less I have to rely on yours and your magical core."

"It explains why you're not as transparent, and I don't feel drained at all," Harry admits. "Do you know where the other parts of you are?"

"I know where all of them are, some are just not practical to get. Nor am I sure that it is a good idea to try and reabsorb them, the small piece of the last one gave me quite the trouble." 

The way he says it, makes Harry feel like quite the trouble translated to it was hell on earth and near impossible. 

"How much soul do you have currently in comparison to a whole one?"

Tom seems to take a deep breath, even though Harry is quite aware that the other doesn't breathe.

"Is it too personal of a question?"

"No, no you have a right to know. I have roughly six percent. If my other part of myself is to be believed." 

Harry blinked. "Six percent." He couldn't help but repeat. "And you are kind of sure that he or it or whatever wasn't lying about that."

"A person can lie to themselves, Harry, but usually, they are able to know the truth behind them."

"Tom it's just that little bit of soul is hardly enough to be a person," Harry says sadly.

"I told you, that I was a shade or something of my former self." Tom defends and starts moving as he often did when he needed to explain something important and troubling. 

"Do you not see I have fallen so far, so foolishly. It was all a mistake, a horrible mistake." Tom's shadows shake and contract. He looks smaller, more vulnerable than Harry has ever seen him. "I am very sorry for it, but being sorry for it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things." 

"Tom you're scaring me." Harry actually is concerned by his growing hysteria. "You need to calm down because I don't understand." 

Tom falls silent. "I didn't mean to." Shadowy hands fall short of touching him as if thinking better of it. "I just needed to tell you, I needed to warn you. I don't want to risk hurting you to become whole again." 

"Next time you are thinking about absorbing some part of your soul tell me, there is probably a better way of preparing both of us for it." 

Tom tilts his head. "There may be a chance coming in spring that I could attempt such a thing again. If not then perhaps over the summer." 

"We'll figure something out for then. There is no use worrying about it yet." He turns off his light, "Is there anything else Tom?"

The shadow slinks away and so Harry tries to sleep taking that as a sign they are done discussing the important matter for this evening. He ends up tossing and turning from the information that Tom has given him. Harry knows that Tom did not mean to hurt him. But there is a nagging awful feeling that there is more to the story, that it's very connected to his scar and the night that his parents died. He just doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want to ask the question that is burning inside of him. It was easier if he was to believe that Tom was a Death Eater and that was all. He didn't want to consider the alternative. The alternative was too horrible to imagine. Because if Tom wasn't a Death Eater that made terrible choices and helped Voldemort that night, then he was Voldemort... and Harry can't accept that. There is no other explanation that he can think of, and the more he plays with that train of thought the more and more uneasy he becomes. It is so much more simple when things are just the two of them joking, laughing, surviving together. The world though has opened up with Chosen Ones, prophecies, and Dark Lords. There are class systems. Blood's own brand of Racism and people like Dumbledore that seemed to want to back him into a corner. 

It makes him need to know more about what lies on the third floor and if it was perhaps a part of Tom's soul. 

~/*\~

He had not been able to tell Harry the end all truth, but he can tell that if he pushes that Harry might slip away forever so he doesn't. He floats with Harry all weekend, helping with the remaining makeup work. Monday he tunes in and out of his classes. The days and hours blending together, as he waits to send Wormtail on a much more extended mission, to get his ring. It would be the easiest one to gain next. 

Everything goes well up until potions. Snape is as vicious to Harry telling him that he has made up work and should have come and seen him right away. He would have made less of a strong child cry, but Harry is very used to insults. He takes them all, but his smile that he usually wears is gone. It's probably because the beratement happens not one on one like a teacher should have handled the situation but in the open, in front of everyone. 

Harry keeps his eyes locked with Snape. He doesn't bend. Tom admires his little vessel for it. But then Harry had stood up to him on more than one occasion and Tom liked to think that if he ever had a really bad day that he could be far worse. Had been far worse, but never really towards children. Tom had always avoided dealing with them. 

Even Draco who was in usual defense of Snape's actions in the classroom was glaring at the man. His face changed as the bat spun around to start class. But Tom had seen it. Perhaps Draco could be swayed like Harry had told him. 

Still, as it stood, Snape could not be so nasty to Harry. It was unacceptable for someone that supposedly loved his mother, to hate the very thing she died for. He knew Snape had asked for him to spare her after all, so there had to be something there to exploit. Tom would have to do something against the other, to punish him, but he can not be sure if his actions would be blamed on Harry, even if Harry had no way to possibly have caused it. He needed to make it almost foolproof that Harry would not have been able to accomplish such a thing. He also needs to stay hidden. He can't have someone that could have switched sides knowing of his existence. It also would place him in a bad position if snape knew who it was that was following Harry around. 

He tunes out Severus's lesson in favor of plotting vengeance. 

~/*\~

Harry sighs cutting his roots very thin. He does it silently and double checks the book. Hermione leans over to steal one of the beatles, and proceeds to crush it with the back of her knife. 

Neville is shaking, next to her at the other table. "Are you sure that we should add the quills now?" 

"Yeah," Ron says confidently. Harry looks up and he can see that their potion is yellow and something has already gone wrong as they aren't partners there is nothing that he can do. If he says anything then Snape would take points off for him helping other groups even though that should have been his job. His eyes sweep back to his own work. Not even a few seconds later, there is a small explosion that almost makes him go deaf next to him. There then is a horrible green liquid that seeps across the floor. 

Snape spins on Harry. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills Potter!"

Harry blinked. 

"What can't you answer the simplest of questions?" A few of the Slytherins smiled but Draco wasn't, which Harry would take as a sign of their friendship.

"I don't know what you want me to say, sir," Harry says pleasantly, though a slight edge had formed in his voice. "Last time you told me not to help groups, and so I didn't this time, and now you're yelling at me for that. I am really confused and I suppose that is only heightened by you must have seen the mistake too and didn't help either." 

A few people were staring wide-eyed and Tom was leaning over him, staring at Snape even though the other could not see him. Tom had locked eyes with Snape even if the other man seemed to have just been staring more so at Harry's forehead.

 _"I never thought you would sink so low Severus."_ Tom's voice hisses in Harry's ear though none can hear him. "To think you would hurt your dear Lilly's son." 

Harry hasn't heard Tom call his mother her real name before. He doesn't even know what the other is implying, but he can just feel those scathing red eyes and almost a horrible pressure that is in the air as well as cold. If Snape notices the slight chill that Harry gets from Tom he doesn't say anything. Hermione follows his slight shiver. 

Ever the angry, bitter person. Instead of offering up an explanation. The sleazy Professor decided to use his power as an authority to continue to ruin Harry's life. "Detention Mr. Potter tonight 6 pm. Perhaps that will teach you not to talk back to me and just so the message is clear 10 points from Gryffindor." 

Hermione let out a deep breath next to him, she was biting her lip so as not to say something that would cause even more of a point loss. He can just feel her trembling rage about the unfairness of it all. She might have even been having an inner war with herself, as she liked to respect authority, but she didn't probably see anything respectable in the hook-nosed bastard. 

As the class wound down. Harry stayed after. He waited till there was no one in the room. Hermione gave him one last glance before sliding out. 

"You won't talk me out of it," Snape says from his desk. He doesn't even look at him, it's like he is a stain that he hates but knows is there. Harry never thought that he could hate someone as much as he hated the Dursley's not even Voldemort. Voldemort might have killed his parents, but he never made Harry's life a living hell. Severus as Tom called him seemed to thrive in it. Thrive in bullying him for things that his father had done as if it was his sweet vengeance upon him. Harry never knew his father. He knew nothing, but even if they didn't get along, to hate someone without knowing them was evil. Possible ex-death eater aside, it was moments in class that Harry thought his real character showed. 

"I am aware of that, sir," Harry said dropping his voice to sound more sullen than he was. He was angrier than anything. Furious rather. "I really wanted to just ask you something. I won't argue the detention or the points. I just want to know why you hate me."

Whatever Snape had been expecting it had not been that his cold dark eyes were wide. Harry almost could have laughed at it, if he was in a different situation he probably would have. 

"I thought at the start you were just being hard on me because I do well in my other classes, and you wanted to make it clear that you had no favoritism. Then I thought that it was something that I did and so I tried to correct it by being even more polite and respectful. Then I just kept thinking it's so unfair, but if I say anything I'll get detention. So now I have one, and I am fine with that, but now that it can't get much worse. I just want to know how to avoid making you so upset with me. I need to take potions and unless you're planning on leaving we will have to see each other for the next several years, and you will have Gryffindors if that is what so awful, long after me. So please Sir just tell me."

"Potter I don't have time to tell you of all your flaws. I will however attempt such a feat later." He scowls. 

Harry smiles sharply. "Very well _sir_ " He practically hisses out. He can see then that Snape stares at him. Looks at him as if he is amazed that Harry is actually capable of hate, or even a dark emotion. Harry turns with no other words, hating the fact that he will return later. 

~/*\~

"It's so unfair." Hermione bristles as they walk to the great hall for an early dinner considering that Harry has detention.

"I am aware." Harry grits. 

"I mean he hates you, he really does beyond being Gryffindor." Hermione continues unperturbed. 

"I have an idea why he does, but it's so petty that I don't want to believe it is the case or rather didn't." Harry sighs. 

"What is the reason, Harry." Neville kindly prompted. He almost seems to hope that the reason that Snape hated both of them was the same and that if they could fix those last things that they wouldn't be bullied. Harry hated crushing another person's hope at a better outcome but told them all about what Tom had told him regardless. Of course, he left out the fact who exactly told him. Giving that credit to his aunt. Who had probably only helped be turned off by wizards if she knew that Snape and that apparently his father and him didn't get along? There was always the chance though that she could agree with the unpleasant man and claim that Harry's father was the worst sort. 

"If that's the reason that he seems to hate Gryffindor the most he really is nothing but a bloody dunderhead." Ron shakes his head. 

"And I thought Gran could hold grudges." Neville paled. "I don't think he'll ever forgive me for melting that cauldron now." 

"Who cares?" Ron says boldly. "Let him hold those grudges. They will get him into trouble sooner or later." 

"He can't possibly get away with treating students like that. we should complain." Hermione agreed. 

"To who?" Harry tilted his head. "All the other teachers are on his level, the only one that could do anything is Dumbledore. And I don't see us being able to get into contact with him without trying to go through a few teachers."

"They will probably just make it worse." Neville fidgeted. "They will just let him know that some of us complained." 

_I will take care of it._ Tom tells him. Harry looked over to the side and his friends did too, but none of them could hear. He stops momentarily his stride and the others take note near instantly. 

"Uh, Harry, something wrong?" Neville asked.

"No, I just had an idea." He shrugs. 

"You got an idea from staring at the wall?" Ron raises an eyebrow.

"Our brains work in mysterious ways." Harry brushes away their concern. "I'll tell you later if it works. If not check the halls for a body okay? After my set detention time." 

"For yours or Snape's?" Ron joked.

Neville laughed softly at that. 

"Honestly Ron, Harrys a model student he would never harm a teacher." Hermione snipped not finding it at all humorous. 

"Not unless I am provoked," Harry chuckles as Hermione shoves him gently away from her. 

They eat dinner and Harry wonders briefly if this might be his last meal. Tom looked particularly angry today and he had always taken his safety and well-being very seriously. Them being connected and all. He looks murderous, staring up at the head table and Harry just hopes that the other knows what he was doing. Draco is not making eye contact with him. He is looking at his dinner plate to avoid Harry's eyes when he looks that way. Harry hopes that because it's just he feels perhaps slightly bad for the way that his Godfather was behaving but did not want to admit someone that he obviously respected was capable of anything like that. And not the alternative that would mean that the other is ashamed of being friends with him. 

Harry leaves dinner early, just as Snape does. He loiters with his friends in the corridor but makes sure that he will be on time. Just so that he can't claim Harry was late, he shows up 15 minutes early to the very entrance of the man's office. 

"Can't even go to detention without your entourage Potter?" Snape sneers as he opens the door. 

Harry takes in a deep breath. "See you all later, I am looking forward to learning Chess Ron."

Ron grins at that even with Snape's deep scowl. Neville waves carefully from his place he is hiding behind Hermione, who had a particularly brave expression on her face. 

"Well if you are done Potter you do have a detention to get to." Snape snips. Tom moved faster into the room than Harry. "Sit there, you will be writing lines for your first half and the second unboxing the new cauldrons and cleaning them."

Harry sat taking out his parchment, ink, and a quill. He sits silently and considers talking with his head of house if Tom's idea doesn't work. He can least try to bring it to the deputy headmistress. 

I WILL NOT DISRESPECT MY TEACHERS AND DISRUPT CLASS 

Snape scrawls out on the board. "100 lines of it should do."

As he said this Tom pulled out the chair next to him, slowly, and then sat. Harry started his lines. About 10 minutes later, Tom had gotten up and pulled up a second chair and sat in that one instead. Harry looked just about as confused as Snape by the action. But after a warning glance, the man when back to grading, making comments under his breath that sounded like they are all so stupid, why me, and curse words that Tom sometimes uttered. 

He didn't know how that was supposed to solve anything and as he finished and headed to the backroom to unbox and clean Tom did not follow him. He had a bad feeling after that. 

~/*\~ 

Tom takes the chalk, he makes sure that Severus is watching Harry as he does so. He then drags the chairs again to make it look like the one had been pushed in politely. Snape watches it move. Then notices the chalk, he shoots a look at Harry before rounding his desk. Tom puts the chalk to the board right under the sentence that Harry had to write 100 times. 

'Sevs please be kind to my Harry.' He writes it near flawlessly from memories that he has seen in Severus's mind. He throws in the nickname for good measure. 'Hate me but not my son.'

The chalk drops and the second chair moves just slightly, Tom almost laughs at the man's expression. He loved this woman and now she was a ghost or less than one was communicating with him. He mouthed Lily, softly to the classroom. 

'He is not me, Snivellus' He writes in the other chalk next. 'Be a better man.' He draws a large angry X underneath, which makes that weak expression pass rather quickly. Snape is obviously upset by the actions now. 

He suspected a trick but probably doesn't think there is any way that Harry could be mimicking this to such an extent. Snape brushes the area around him with his wand, Tom doesn't mind this at all he is near unaffected by the action. He even puts a little weight on the wand. He still can not touch people but objects he is having a bit more control over. He lets go and moves the seats again as if they are sitting down to watch. He is careful to make it seem like there is weight behind that movement. He wants it to seem like there are people actually moving them and sitting there. Just unseen like they were invisible. 

He can see a mix of emotions threatening to overtake the Potions Master. It is like a well-made Drama. All of the pained ones are pretty nice to watch and he savors them. He wonders if the man is having a mental breakdown as the person that he claimed to be in love with was haunting him beyond the grave for tormenting her son and his most hated rival seemed to be insisting that he be the better man. The best part was even if he were to peer into Harry's head, which Tom wouldn't allow. Harry didn't know anything about Lily and Snape's friendship, not even Snape's obsession. He would have no memories of Tom's actions 

"Potter just unbox them. Forget the cleaning, I have other things to do." Severus wipes the board with a flick of his wand, clearing away the evidence. 

Less than 20 minutes later Harry closes the classroom door behind him. 

"He looked frazzled. What did you do?" Harry tilted his head. 

"I merely made it seem like someone from beyond the grave had come knocking because he was being a horrible person to you, Harry. I didn't do anything that could be seen as worse than a prank. I wouldn't risk anything else. It would mean exposure and we can't have anyone else know about our connection."

Harry smiled slightly, "Well even if it doesn't stop his harassment at least it will give him something to think about." 

"Indeed." Tom agrees. "We can head towards the kitchens," I am sure that you are hungry with the shift in schedule."

"The house-elves really are wonderful." Harry smiles brightly as they make their way up towards the Hufflepuff dorms. 

Tom almost entertains a horrible thought that Harry might try and get some sort of bill past that helped give the creatures' rights. It would be something that Harry would attempt to do. 

~/*\~

Harry plays snap with Neville and Ron as it's a bit too late after his brief wandering of the corridors to be taught by a tired Ron to play chess. Tom floats near Scabbers as the rat apparently still bothers him. The thing quickly gets off Ron's leg and makes a run for its cage. Trevor croaks once half-heartedly as he is passed on the floor. 

Tom Jr. Coils around Harry's wrist, hissing softly sweet nothings. Such as warm and hold tight. He feels much better than he had in a long time thinking that maybe Snape would lay off him for a little while.

~/*\~

The day that Harry has been excited about arrives, Halloween, and a chance to try and see what is on the third floor, as everyone else would be at the feast. He had a suspicion that whatever Hagrid had collected from the bank for Dumbeldore must be on that floor and that it could be a part of Tom's soul. Tom did seem only slightly interested in getting to know what was up there, the more time passed. All Harry knew for sure is that it must be small enough to fit in one of Hagrid's pockets as the man wasn't supposed to do magic and he didn't think the other would have it shrunken down for him. Whatever was up there Snape and Quirrell seemed to have a fascination with it. Harry might also have been able to add himself to that list. He was too curious. 

"I love Halloween." Ron shoves a pumpkin donut into his mouth. "Nothing better than lots of candy and spooky stories."

"In the muggle world, we dress up in fun costumes." Hermione is telling anyone that will listen to her all about the fun costumes that she had made and wore, only some understanding the references. 

Neville brought up contacting past loved ones and how a lot of the old practices were not exactly as accepted. 

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table where a lot of them were looking annoyed at the decorations. 

Not traditional Tom had told him, and a lot are missing for the first time real ceremonies and things that matter to them in favor of the muggle watered-down version of the holiday. Harry could not help but feel bad for them. The muddying of culture was one of the reasons he knows there is such a dislike between Muggle-borns and Pure-bloods. It would help if everyone could celebrate a little of their own way and teach each other about the different traditions. 

"Harry what's wrong." Neville kindly asks. "You have been quiet all morning don't you like Halloween?"

It would figure that Neville would be the one to notice. He was very good at picking up people's moods. Harry wonders if he is better at that because he fears upsetting people and is more in tune with other's emotions. It makes him worry about the other but he does have plans. He silently says an apology in advance to the poor boy. 

"No!" Harry snips and then quickly apologizes by the look on Neville's face he really was sorry that he had to use the other like this. "Look Neville it's hard okay my parents were murdered on this date and I was left with my horrible aunt and uncle. It's hard to be cheery when at this time 11 years ago Voldemort decided to try and kill me." 

A few people had stopped eating at the use of Voldemort's real name. 

"Sorry." Harry smiled halfheartedly. I'll see you in class. 

Harry makes a big deal of claiming that Halloween for him was a day of mourning. He lays it on a bit thick but is sure that he will be able to sneak off during the feast as his friends had agreed to give him some space. 

~/*\~

Harry creeps up to the third floor. The best way to do so is to cast a disillusionment charm. Tom had helped him practice it a few nights ago in preparation. Tom had used it often in his school days to avoid the caretaker and other people that he wanted nothing to do with. Harry does find it rather useful. It's a damn shame that he wasn’t able to use it around the Dursleys. 

The door is locked but he expected that. He wandlessly tries an unlocking charm, just like he would do to get out of his cupboard. 

“There is no way that is going to work.” Tom disagrees from his placement on lookout. 

Yet there is a click and Harry is able to open the door. his smug face doesn't last when he sees a monstrous dog on the other side. It has 3 heads and is growling, smelling him there but not noticing exactly where he was. They or it is laying down on something. A trap door it seems. He watches the dog a few more seconds, as it starts to stand up and decides that's enough. 

He slowly shuts the door. “Well, we knew something would be guarding it” Harry starts, but his mouth is covered by Tom's cold hands. 

He looks around and he can see Quirrell sprinting up the corridor looking behind him. Harry slowly backs away, as the other opens the door. He nearly steps on something black and cloth as Tom directs him to the wall. 

Snape.

Harry watches the two professors make eye contact. 

“Sevvverus I... “ The man starts. “I thought that-tt it would be important to sssee if the stone was safe.”

Stone? Harry doesn’t have time to process the fact that he needs to move slowly back and out of wand range. 

“I highly doubt that. You don't want the headmaster as your enemy Quirrell.” The Potions Master stalks into the other's personal space. Whatever he could have said is cut off by filch frantically calling to them. 

“The troll isn't in the dungeons anymore. It’s roaming the school.” 

“Troll?” Harry breaths.

 _We need to make it to the dorms._ Tom hisses softly. _Our charm will not last much longer, and that would be where they would expect you to go in this sort of situation._

'In this sort of situation', he completely agrees with Tom’s assessment. Harry starts walking as quickly as he can in the opposite directions of the teachers running off. 

“Has anything like this happened before?” He whispers.

“Once… with a snake.” 

“A snake?”

“It was a large one. I will tell you when you're older.” 

He makes it halfway to Gryffindor before seeing the Troll, at least he assumes it's a troll, lumbering quickly after Neville and Hermione. Both of which were running right towards him. Screaming. Tom’s already tugging him by the cloak to move out of the way. They are still disillusioned and could make an escape. 

“I need to help them.”

“We should get someone, that is a troll, Harry. It is resilient to most magic.” Tom tugs at him again. 

“Yes most, give me spells.” Harry had read about them in defense against the dark arts. He knew that, but still. He needs to help. Harry breaks his disillusionment charm. His friends stare in awe as he seemingly out of nowhere. The troll is looking at him. Its ugly face is confused as well or perhaps it is trying to squint because their eyesight was known to be worse than his without his glasses. 

“Keep running.” Harry instructs them, “In patterns Trolls are stupid remember?”

Hermione, who should have known that, seems to have her brain kick on in time and only just so. His friends duck as a club goes for them and smashes into one of the pillars. 

“Spells Tom.” Harry reminds

“Alright, alright.” Tom snaps at him. “Try immobulus and if that doesn't work, distract it with sparks and then perhaps set its clothes on fire with an incendio.” 

It's a decent enough plan, and that is all that Harry needs to take action. 

Harry throws some sparks, making it turn to face him. 

Hermione stops running when she realizes that Harry is trying to fight it.

“Immobulus.” His spell fizzles uselessly, he tries again and nothing. Neville has stopped as well. The troll gained more ground, with its large steps. 

“Harry!” Tom warns.

“Fine, fine we do this the hard way.” Harry ran right at the troll. 

~/*\~

Tom hates his Gryffindor sometimes. No most times. Yes, there is not a time that he has ever hated the other as much as he does at this moment. Borrowing magic would be a bad thing to do in the current situation but Harry just might get himself killed at this rate. He is dipping and dodging the massive club, but it would only take one hit. 

Tom breathes in a mental sense and borrows the magic that Harry is using currently to cast the simple fire spell. His intent to protect burns bright like cursed fire. Powerful flame to turn the tide, he pushes forward with a snake of flame, to counter the small one that has set the things crotch cloth on fire. Harry is dodging flailing limbs and wild club swings, but even he pauses as Tom’s snake crashed into the troll and cering its flesh. 

Harry stares wide-eyed and still at his wand and then at Tom who has easily stepped in front of him to stop the club from whacking him. He slams his borrows magic forward again and the troll skids down the hall several feet, slamming into one of the lower archways and making the light fixtures above swing. It smashes its horrible head against the wall and collapses out cold. 

Hermione rushes forward to check over Harry. Neville moves slowly cautiously back down the hall towards the both of them. Tom lets out a breath of relief as Harry looks tired, but has managed not to pass out. His scar looks read and angry though. It could not have been comfortable. 

“Oh, my heavens… You… ” Mcgonagall starts, faulters and must start again. “Explain yourselves.” She demands. As the group of children start floundering in front of him, Tom watches every other teacher start to make their approach including one that he has started to hate quite a lot and the person he hates most the headmaster.

“Yes.” Snape that has just managed to make his way to them joins in on the conversation. “Explain how a couple of 1st years were able to take on a fully grown mountain troll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter Tea with the headmaster will be up as soon as possible. See you all soon. (^▽^)


	12. Chapter 12

_Tea with the Headmaster_

Harry surprises even Tom when he just starts crying. Tom has never really seen Harry cry before unless he had been really emotionally or physically hurt. This is not one of the times that he had expected it. All things considering Harry is unharmed, perhaps he was that worried about his friends? 

Strange... He tilts his head, feeling a strange clutching feeling where his soul shards are by the action. Harry crying causes Hermione to start. Neville doesn't thankfully burst into tears, but he looks helplessly between the other 2 Gryffindors that are just now full-on sobbing holding onto each other for dear life. McGonagall looks lost by the action. Snape just narrows his eyes, not moved or convinced by their actions that they are not guilty of at least something. 

Dumbledore has made it to the front. Tom moves as far away as possible from the old man. Even though doing so takes him a little away from Harry. "Perhaps some calming drought and tea would help our young ones tell us what has happened."

His soft-spoken, nice man routine. Tom knows it well from his school days. He hovers closer to Harry hoping he doesn’t fall for it.

"That would be good Albus, I'm sure it will help, use my office the closest. The older woman ushers them a small way down the corridor. 

"Myself and McGonagall their head of house will talk with the students, Severus could you please dispose of the troll, the rest of you please make sure all our students are accounted for and safe." 

The crowd disperses at his words and they enter the smaller office, by Gryffindor tower. Tom really shouldn't be surprised that she has a tea set and the needed potions in her office. He would have them on hand as well. He slightly envies her in that regard, calming drought on hand would ease the worries that he often felt for his Horcrux.

She transfigures a few more chairs that look cozy and welcoming. Unfortunately, there are no real openings for him and he must stand. 

"It's my fault professor." Harry starts as soon as he is given his tea. "It's all my fault. See I don't like Halloween so I didn't attend the feast. I at first tried to be in the tower but people were so happy, and it made me really just feel out of place. I didn't want to bring them down so I went to one of the alcoves I like with the big windows to be alone."

Harry rushes the cover story out, and Tom is grateful that Harry isn't a stupid child because he really would have hated to see their faces if he mentioned that he was poking around the third-floor corridor. 

"Why is it that you felt you needed to be alone, on such a magical night? Dumbledore asked pleasantly, and Head of house seemed to know already even before Harry has a chance to answer. 

Harry frowns deeply looking at the tea in his cup. "To everyone, it's about eating candy and making costumes. Some telling stories and such, but for me, it will always be the night that my family died." His hand shakes just slightly. "It's a night that I remember bits of in nightmares with green flashes and laughing. It's a night that wasn't helped by my Aunt telling me that my parents deserved it for being freaks or shoving me into the cupboard the whole day as if I could catch magic." 

The headmistress had a very dark look. Dumbledore looked impassive. And it was then that Tom really finally realized what Harry was doing. He blames his slow mental state on the fact that he is running on very low soul capacity, and has been using the soul of a child to compensate. Harry was confirming their suspected on who did and did not know the terror that was the Dursleys. He was also buying himself and his friend's innocence the best way that he could, pity, and a want to care for such a small person that had already faced so much hardship. 

Tom was impressed it was something that he would have done as well. No one interrupted Harry. Hermione just held onto him tighter proving herself as a very loyal follower or friend for Harry. 

Harry rubbed at his eye before continuing. "I didn't know until the summer that my parents didn't die in a car crash. They died fighting a dark lord. They died as heroes, but I never knew them. They died so I could be here because..."

Harry actually might have shed a real few tears. "Because Voldemort must have thought that I was special or something. So... "

Harry's hand shakes the cup in his hand rattles. 

"I wanted to be alone. It's not happy for me. I can't be happy on a day that stole everything from me and put me with my horrible Aunt and Uncle. Voldemort robbed me that night of a family, happiness, everything." 

Harry just stopped after that. His breathing hard and Tom feels like perhaps that side of things is not completely acted as McGonagall reached over to put a hand on his shoulder, truly moved near tears herself. "Take a sip of the tea, I put some drought in. It will help." 

Harry takes a sip, a small careful one that doesn't seem to have been a real one at all. Good his lectures of making sure that he didn't drink or eat random things were helping the other to be more cautious. It might be one of the few lessons that Tom has managed to teach the other. 

"It's not your fault." She tells him and Tom can not tell if it's her telling him that his parents did not die because of him, that they were doing what any good parent would do, or if she is telling him that the whole thing with the troll was not his doing. Because of course, it wasn't, it was Quirrell's. Tom knew it was a diversion, to get a stone of some sort and Snape had cut him off. The question was why something was in the school being guarded by simple locks, and charms if it was so important. He did not have time to pounder it as his most hated enemy decides to interrupt the growing silence. 

"I would like to know how the troll comes in," Dumbledore says patiently. 

"Well, you see sir." Hermione clears her throat. Perhaps she was taken off guard by his seeming lack of care where the relatives were involved. "We, Neville and Me. We got worried after Quirrell fainted and announced that danger was in the school." She takes a good sip of her tea to give her courage. "So we went looking." 

"We didn't think Harry would know," Neville says bravely. "We had to make sure that he was okay when we didn't see him on the way back to the dorm." 

"See my fault," Harry repeats very insistently. "If I didn't go off like that, I wouldn't have made them feel like they needed to find me. I was on my way back towards the tower because of the commotion when I heard Percy trying to count heads and it sounded like 3 were missing."

"And that led you all to encounter the troll," Dumbledore said acceptingly. "But how did you defeat it?" 

"Well err... Harry..." Hermione did not seem to know how to vocalize what she had seen and that was probably for the best because Harry could make up a good defense for Tom's actions. 

"I did the damage to the troll sir." Harry sat up straighter. "I know that it was rather mean to do to the troll, but he was trying to kill us. I think." 

"You did this all by yourself?" Dumbledore leans a little forward and is clearly very interested. Tom if he had skin was sure that it would crawl. 

"Yes." Harry lies, and Tom makes sure that he helps to shield Harry's mind as the blue eyes look into his. I set its clothes on fire after my immobulus failed and well then I am not really sure what happened. I just knew I wanted it away from me if that makes sense. So it sort of went away from me."

“It was like he pushed it.” Neville said softly, “pushed it several meters into the wall.” 

Hermione nodded. “His incindio was so bright.” 

“It would seem you did some accidental magic Potter, and I am so very glad that it worked this time around.” The deputy Headmistress forced a smile. “Please, I know that it was good intentions that led you to try and find one another, not deliberately looking for trouble that led to this but if there is ever another danger in the school, please report to the dorms and stay safe.”

Harry nodded vigorously. “Of course Mame.”

“They finished their tea and were sent off to bed, even though Albus looked like he wanted to say more to Harry. McGonagall looked like she wanted to make sure she cleared a few things up with him after she got them all to bed. The look she had given the man was delicious and Tom hoped that the man suffered her wrath for letting Harry be left with such disgusting people. There was the chance that they would never have to go back, without Hermione getting too involved now. He could hope. A nice Magical Family for Harry. 

“Thank goodness you're safe.” Percy left up from his chair the moment that they had made it through the porthole. McGonagall shot him a slight look by his loud outburst. She probably was upset that he let the first years out of his sight. 

“Yes, Potter and his friends are alright. I am sure that they will have loads to tell waiting ears, but for now. I am hopeful that everyone can head to bed. Especially, Harry, he will need the most rest.”

~/*\~

Things never stay quiet for long, and soon Harry finds himself telling on how he has defeated the troll no less than 6 times, and his friends all add in as he went. Neville talked about how brave Harry was, and how horrifying the troll was. Hermione on Harry's amazing ability to use spells. by the time that Harry has managed to shake everyone, it's well into the night. He is just grateful that Tomorrow is Saturday. He will get to sleep in. 

“Tom, can we talk in the morning? I'll slip off if I have to. I'm just so tired.” 

“Rest Harry, but expect a lecture in the morning from me about not rushing into things.” Tom’s eyes lit up brighter, smiling. 

“That's what Gryffindors do.” Harry pulled the blankets up.

“Yes and that is what will more than likely get you killed.” Tom wagged a finger at him. “Bravery is admirable only when one has the skills to back it up and some forethought.” 

Harry sighs and takes off his glasses. Not looking forward to Tom's nagging in the morning. "Before I drift off, thank you for helping."

“Of course Harry was bound together. I can't see you die.” Tom shakes his head as if to say that they have been over this a lot. They had, but still. 

“But if we weren't you'd still help right?” Harry’s eyes are fighting to stay open. He was more drained than he thought. 

“Yes,” Tom says without missing a single beat, his answer though seems to surprise him. By how quiet that he gets. 

Harry smiles until he falls into a dreamless sleep. 

In the morning true to his word, Harry slips out; he takes a brisk walk out the main gates, bundled well under his thicker robes. He wishes that his mail-order gloves would come faster. He is excited to own his very own gloves. the Hogwarts scarf that he had bought at the start of the term though feels nice. Tom's shadows spread out around him as the wind picks up he can see more of his legs under the trail that usually just ends up being more of a robe end. It's among the new changes he has started to note with tom. 

“So you're going to lecture me?” Harry asks as he stops by one of the large trees that is almost done shedding all its brightly colored leaves. 

“I suppose I should.” Tom sighs. “Salizar knows that I am the only one that seems able to get through to you, and that is only some of the time.”

He follows Harry's idea to sit after Harry cast a quick spell so his pants and cloak wouldn’t get wet. He doesn’t really sit well. Harry can’t really make out legs that are bent into that position.

Harry is not denying it. “I know you didn't want me to fight the troll, but my friends were in danger. I had to help them.”

Tom nods, “Which is understandable, we had no choice but to fight. I am merely trying to point out that in a different scenario that running would be far more suitable. If it's something stronger than a troll we will not stand a chance.

“I don't know about that, you seemed pretty powerful”. Harry disagrees. 

“I borrowed magic, and you felt it I am sure.”

“Yes, but I was fine.” Harry waves his hand. “And that is all that matters right?”

“This time,” Tom stresses. “This time you were okay.”

“Are you worried that something like what landed in the hospital wing will happen again?” Harry shakes his head. “We know better than to push it. You can control how much you borrow.” 

“It's a distinct possibility that we can, but we don’t know the limit.” Tom looks out towards the lake. “Your scar bleed the other time and this time it was close to it. Raw looking.” His red eyes shift to him. 

Harry rubbed at his scar without even thinking. “It did hurt a tad, but nothing bad.”

Tom takes that as proof of his point. “All the more reason for us not to use me as some powerful end-all move, because it might just very well knock you out or worse.” 

Despite himself and the slight worry that comes with that idea, Harry smirks. “I don't know if you count as the final boss, I thought that I was doing pretty good on my own.”

“Oh yes,” Tom says sarcastically. “Until you stood still giving the troll an easy target and I had to send the troll into the wall. It's best that we don't stop moving next time.”

“You think there will be a next time?” Harry laughs knowing full well there probably would be. Tom doesn’t seem to find it all that humorous though. 

“Most likely.” Tom sighs. “I know that you are curious about that 3 headed dogs, and I myself find it intriguing.” 

Harry waits for him to elaborate and he does. Tom rambles his theories about Quirrell and Snape. Harry wishes it was Snape that was the villain. It would have been so much better to see him sacked. But he can not deny that it looked like the sleazeball's only crime was being an asshole. 

“So a stone.” Harry ponders, “are there really powerful magic ones?”

“There are a few.” Tom seems to nod by the way his shadowed head dips in the breeze. “But none of them come to mind as something that the headmaster would be in possession of.” 

“But there are magic stones.” Harry clarifies because it could be cool to find or own one.

“Yes, Harry, there are magic stones that can be used to enchant things like those horrible Muggle fiction novels mentioned. But most of those can easily be bought and are not a treasure. A few legendary stones that come to mind are the Philosophers Stone, called to some nitwits in America the Sorcerer's Stone and The Resurrection Stone. Only one of which is real of course.” 

“Which one is the fake one?” Harry can guess, but he just wants to make sure.

“The resurrection stone of course.” Tom almost sounds disappointed in him. “There is no such thing as the Deathly Hallows. No matter how much Grindelwald claimed to be an owner of one of them.”

“What are the deathly hallows? Harry blinks. “And who's Grindelwald?”

He didn’t know either of those things, never heard them mentioned.

“You won't know of the hollows as it's a Wizard bedtime story and nothing more. As for the second, you were studying in History of Magic, infamous Dark Lords. He was mentioned.” 

“No one pays attention in History of Magic, Tom.” Harry defends because that class was awful, certainly the worst class that Hogwarts forced him to take. 

“They should, history is important,” Tom grumbles. 

“But learning from binns is impossible.” Harry whines. 

“While I don't deny that, you still have tests in it.” Tom sounds even more like a parent then normal now. 

“I know the big one is coming next week.” Harry sighs feeling that annoying inevitability creeping up. ”I don't suppose that I could use you as a resource for it.” 

“I will help you study, you're not getting a free pass because I am here. you as my…” He hesitates “Vessel needs to be strong both physically and mentally.”

“I care about you too.” Harry snorts. 

The shadow shifted, and Harry could tell that he was rubbing his eyes. He sighed deeply. “You know that I care for you.”

“What was that?”Harry puts his hand to his ear.

“You know what I said. I shall not repeat myself. It's bad enough that I have turned soft for you, don't make me mention it out loud again.” Tom huffs. 

“So... we know it's a stone. Do you think that it's enough to trick Hagrid into giving out more information to us?” Harry turned over the idea out loud. 

“No offense intended.” Harry could tell that he meant much offense. “Hagrid doesn’t cast the brightest Lumos. I think that he would give you the information as a way to try and persuade you not to look into it further.”

“I was hopeful for that too.” Harry settles it.

“That's why you took us down this way.” Tom smiles knowingly. “You would have made a nice Slytherin.”

“Or Ravenclaw. I am quite clever. The only question is do you think that I should involve Hermione in this? I mean she could help us riddle it all out you know. She might know of some vague stones you didn't mention.” 

“She is rather bright for... someone her age.” Tom agrees. 

Harry can at least take pride that Tom seems to be thinking more about what he was saying, perhaps with time, his ideals about blood would change. Harry could hope.

~/*\~

“I can't believe you sent me a letter to meet you down here by magic.” Hermione shakes her head. “You could have just asked or told me like a normal person that you were headed for Hagrids. Then I could have avoided taking this one with me.”

She points to the boy that is pretty close to her. Draco stuck up his nose. “It’s not like I meant to read your stupid letter, it just fell from the sky onto our study table.”

“You were studying together.” Harry starts...

“You didn’t have to come,” Hermione snips, ignoring Harry’s question. 

“Of course I did. I haven't been able to see Harry since the whole Snape thing, then I heard he and you battled a troll. I have every right to threaten him not to do something so bloody Gryffindor as I did you.” Draco spins from her. “Harry if you ever go after a troll again, without me, I am cursing you.”

Harry laughed at Tom's baffled expression because that was not at all what he had expected him to say. no proper Slytherin probably would have said it, but then they were only 11. 

“If anything exciting crops up I will be sure to let you know.” Harry agrees easily. 

“Good, can't have you getting all the points. Besides, I think I can handle my own.” Draco says proudly.

“Points?” Harry decides not to point out that Draco wasn't the best at shielding charms. He was excelling in other areas though. Harry even with Tom's help isn't perfect at potions. 

“Potter, certainly you didn't miss that there were 50 points randomly given to your house. It's completely unfair, by the way.” Draco complains. 

“It's to make up for all the points that Snape takes unfairly.” Hermione snips. “I told McGonagall all about his bullying before she left our common room. I think she had choice words for him the way that she was head off.”

“Or for Dumbledore,” Harry muttered. 

“Dumbledore.” Draco scuffs as they reach what could have served as Hagrids front lawn as the grass was more trimmed but they were still about a block away. The hut having smoke rose out of it, trailing towards the and the lake. “What does that crackpot know? My father says he is always dipping his crooked nose into things he shouldn't be.” 

Hermione gaped at him while Tom smiled as if mildly impressed.

“I mean he sort of is Hermione. I told you about the other stuff.” Harry shifts his weight.

“What other stuff.” Draco butts in with even far less grace than before. 

Harry rubs his head. “It's not exactly something I want to talk too much about. It's rather personal Draco and it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that it's hard to explain without giving it a lot of context.”

“If you don't want to tell me that's fine.” He looks a little wounded but accepting.

“I will oversimplify and say that Dumbles is my magical guardian and is a really shitty one.” Harry feels like that would be all the explanation needed.

Hermione looked faint and Draco laughed. 

“I'm not laughing at the situation, Harry, rest assured. I just haven't heard someone throw a swear out so casually. My mother would have smacked me on the head for it. Can't imagine what it would be like to have him as a guardian. How do you stand it?” Draco shakes his head and the little tassel on his hat bounces with it. 

“Honestly since he has been absent for the last 11 years of my life I would prefer he stayed out of it. Absence of his meddling could only make my heart grow fonder.”

Draco smirked. 

Hermione shook her head. “My offer still stands even if he tries to get involved,'' she said seriously. 

“I appreciate it, Hermione.” Harry looks at her fondly, and Tom looks rather annoyed out of the corner of his eye. 

“Anyway, we're going to the big gamekeeper's house again right.” Malfoy sniffs folded his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits because it's cold. He shakes a little.

“That was the plan.” Hermione breaks eye contact first, her face slightly red from the cold. 

“It better be warm in his hut Draco mutters as he takes the lead towards the small house. They stop at the door and Harry knocks because the blond doesn't and is busy looking for Fang. Dogs happen for some reason to scare the heir. 

“Arry.” Hagrid smiles at them, he doesn’t exactly open his door. 

“Hey, Hagrid.” Harry waves, “You said to drop by sometime soon. I brought Hermione and Draco with me.”

“Ah well... Er.. come on in then.” Hagrid opened the door. Fang gave one good gruff noise as Draco entered and Tom. It was like the dog knew he was there, how odd. 

“I was a bit busy.” Hagrid looked sharply towards Malfoy. “Don’t suppose you could warm the pot for me.” 

The big man placed the teapot on the table and brought over some cups and saucers. Hermione leaned over and cast a nice warming charm to heat it all the way through. The fire however was roaring. Harry looked towards the cauldron that was there. 

“What are you trying to make?” Draco attempted to peer at the contents as he leaned in on the table. 

“Tat’s nothin.” Hagrid sat down. “Now how is school goin.” 

Harry and Hermione recount the tale of the troll so Draco gets to hear the ‘real story' and so that Hagrid can as well. Harry then decides to drop in his little added tidbit. 

“What I want to know is why when I was rushing to get back to my dorm, before the troll cut me off, why Snape and Quirrell were on the 3rd floor. They were arguing about a Stone that needed to be protected. I figured that it had to do with what you got from the bank, Hagrid”. 

“Tat isn’t something you should be lookin’ into.” Hagrid shakes his head. “Yah too young to meddle with that sort of thing just because of curiosity. 

“It's not curiosity if it's going to bring bad people coming.” Harry disagrees. “It’s understanding, and being cautious.” Harry borrows a page from Tom on the twisting of words. “Hagrid, I know what stone that is. I know what it could do.”

His friends looked nervous. Draco had been the one that told Harry to drop it weeks ago. Hermione looked about just as nervous as she did then. 

“Leave that to Dumbledore ‘nd Nicholas Flamel Arry.” Hagrid said in a voice that left no room for argument. 

There is a loud popping noise from the fire, taking away all the tension in the room as it makes them all jump. Draco stops making himself his tea. Hagrid quickly gets up to investigate, putting on oven mitts and pulling out an egg. Not at all what Harry had expected to be in the cauldron he is further confused when the man places it on the table. 

It twitches and not from the last motion of being placed carefully on the table. 

“Uh Hagrid what exactly is that?” He asks cautiously because it's like nothing he has ever seen as the egg is larger than perhaps even an ostrich. 

“Well that's umm well it errs.” Hagrid coughs to himself, not making eye contact. 

“I know what that is.” Draco blinks and then starts to smile, like a complete loon. “I always wanted one. How did you get one?”

It did not answer the question of what it was, though Tom might have known because he was making gestures about getting away from it.

“I won it, from a person I met in the pub. Errr it wasn’t gamblin okay. You all know that's wrong. The man who had it, seemed very glad to be rid of it, to be honest.” Hagrid shrugged. 

“And you thought that you could handle a dragon?” Draco said skeptically as the egg moved. “Do you have any training for that?”

A dragon… Harry despite Tom’s seemingly well-intentioned warnings moved closer in his seat towards the egg.

“I have plenty of work with possibly dangerous beasts.” Hagrid proudly says Tom scowls deeply from his place in the corner. Fang lets out a bark as he moved seemingly too close. “I worked with large spiders, raised werewolf pups, why I even have looked after my 3 headed dog for a number of years.”

“You have a Cerberus?” Draco’s eyes widen comically large

The egg gives another shake. Hagrid watches it and not them. 

“Yes ‘is name is fluffy. Lent em off to Dumbledore for a little bit. Very protective he is.” 

Tom exchanged a look with Harry. They now knew where the beast came from at least. 

“How do you handle something like that?” Harry acts impressed, though he is not sure that Hagrid really did handle such a thing.

“Always know how to calm a big beast Arry.” Hagrid says. “Tats the trick. Anticipate what they are goin do and try to makes sures that yah can calm em down when they get too excited.”

“How does one calm a 3 headed dog?” Harry presses. 

“Music Arry,” Hagrid says cheerfully, not seeming able to comprehend what he has just told Harry. 

He was too busy as the egg violently shook and a very small nose pushed its way through the hard outer shell. Egg bits shot out in many directions. The poor thing sheds the rest of its egg before falling on its face tripping over its limbs, completely un-coordinated. The thing chirped loudly for its mother. Looking around the table before its eyes seemed to find Hagrid or Tom as they were in the same area.

“Beautiful, bless him he knows his mommy,” Hagrid exclaimed happily motioning for the little one to come closer. Tom was making a gagging noise as the older man started claiming Norbert, the dragon, the cutest little thing. Draco seemed pretty entranced by the thing as well. Probably because his name was decently close to Dragon. The dragon while being pet and loved, began to sneeze, and fire shot out his nose and set Hagrid's beard on fire. It was then that perhaps Draco noted that Hagrid did not know how to handle the dragon and proceeded to pale a little as the thing sneezed again and he was almost signed by it. 

~/*\~

“He can’t keep that thing,” Draco said as they headed up to the castle. “I mean he has no idea what he is doing, has no documents, not to mention that his hut is made of wood.” 

“I hate to agree with you, but your right.” Hermione played with her bag strap. 

“What was that Granger?” Malfoy had the biggest dopest grin that Harry had ever seen. 

“I said that you were right.” She huffed. “Probably the only thing you will ever be right on mind you. He can’t keep it.” 

Draco shook his head, still riding high on her annoyance. Hermione looked ready to say more. 

“But what are we going to do about it? We can’t just report it.” Harry brought them back before an argument could take them away from the important thing that they needed to deal with, and in his case that he had to take care of before he could deal with the 3rd floor. 

“Or we could,” Draco says seriously. “I mean it's a danger. I don’t care if he managed to tame a 3 headed dog. A dragon is going to get big.”

“You said you always wanted one.” Hermione accused. 

“Of course but not the type that is going to get bigger than a house.” Draco defends. “Sides it won't stay a secret for long when it gets really hungry and just struts up to the castle to eat someone.”

“I think it would head towards the woods.” Hermione interrupted.

“Well, it still could eat someone.” Draco hisses. “Knowing Harry’s luck it would be him.” 

“What is that supposed to mean.” Hermione puffed up ready to defend her best friend it seemed. 

“Just saying he is a bit of a trouble magnet right?” Draco shrugs. “Not saying it's a horrible thing. I think it makes letters home exciting.” 

“We should ask Ron.” Harry sighed. “His brother knows about dragons. Maybe he could discreetly pick it up?”

Draco sighs at Ron's name in an even more dramatic way than Harry's. “We could try it that way, but mark my words if we can’t do it in a month I am telling my father. He can bring ministry people here to take care of it.”

“Would they hurt Norbert?” Hermione asks.

“I don’t think so. My father wouldn’t just hurt something because he could.” Draco did have a high opinion of his father. Sometimes Harry thought that it was unrealistically so. 

_“He would.”_ Tom muttered. _“Lucius would let Hagrid hang because he is associated with Dumbeldore.”_

Harry would be talking to Tom, it seemed more about Draco’s father later. 

“If we can’t solve it ourselves we can try and get a head of house involved.” Harry compromises. 

“Not Snape.” Hermione bluntly adds in. “But yes a teacher.”

Malfoy didn't attempt to argue it knowing probably full well that Snape probably wouldn’t have his friends' best interests in mind. 

~/*\~

Harry’s little Weasley is far too excited with the prospect of a covert operative mission to sneak a dragon to his brother than Tom feels comfortable with. A group of 5 eleven-year-olds was not exactly the group that he wanted to try and do such a potentially dangerous thing together. Neville didn’t seem like he would be at all useful. Not that he can talk Harry out of wanting to help his friend Hagrid. Tom isn’t comfortable with that friendship. Yet another tick mark in the reasons that Harry will eventually hate him. He supposes that he is at least interested in the stone now if it was really in the school. The philosopher's stone could give him back his body. He wanted so desperately to have one of those back. But that would have to wait. He didn’t want to be restored with so little of his soul. He would not be that weak waiting for his enemies to kill him again. So he plotted on what shards would be best to collect. 

He beckons Ron’s rat forward. 

“I have another task for you, Wormtail. I need you to bring me another artifact. This one will prove difficult, but if you are to retrieve it. I will forgive you for some of your past transgressions against me. I will be quite merciful. Fail me and I will reinvent what the name Voldemort means. ” 

The rat trembled knowing full well that Vold meant vicious, and Mort meant death. Yes Vicious death, he would give it to the other. For thinking, he could win Harry over with petty trinkets from the room of requirements. 

“It's my family ring, and it would be in their old home. There will be a large number of ‘protective’ enchantments around it, a trap rather. I would send someone in first before yourself.” He presses on the rat's head with one of his fingers, sending the information needed for travel and to retrieve the object safely.

It was in that rat's head that he could talk with him without the transformation to human. 

“Master, do you want the ring for Harry Potter to court him?” 

“What?” He all but hisses. 

“It's just that you are very attached to him.” Pettigrew backpedals. 

“Is that what you think? You disgusting little creature.” Tom feels a little of his magic seep from him. “Get out of my sight before I end you.” 

He watched the rat scurry off as fast as his legs would carry him. He then looks at Harry's sleeping form and wonders if others would think so little of him for coming to care for another person. A person that so happened to be a decently mature child, and perhaps the only person that Tom Riddle would have called a friend. There was no room for anything else there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, Thank You for all the love that this fic has gotten. It warms my heart so much. See you all soon for the next chapter! 
> 
> You, Me, and a Dragon make 3.
> 
> EDIT: 10/12/2020
> 
> I am so sorry that this released the draft that had more mistakes from me than normal. (I was not supposed to post this till the final edit on Tuesday after work... oh well) I am very grateful for the catch of it and I have thus edited and fixed glaring issues.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, feedback, and Questions are always welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reaching!


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